


Marked

by SaraWinters



Series: Fate [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Time, Romance, Sequel, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 112,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraWinters/pseuds/SaraWinters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Neville share the harsh reality of being the Boy Who Lived, Hogwarts politics and experience the uncertainty of relationships in the face of pending death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Permanent Scars

Following Harry's release from the St. Mungo's, he, Hermione, Lily and Dumbledore traveled in uneasy silence, each thinking of the complex journey ahead and their own part in it. Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts, moving quickly out of the way as the others followed. Hermione was next, then his mother—the two shifting to opposite sides of the fireplace as Minister Dumbledore stepped through the green flames last.

No one's eyes met and again, Harry felt the tension that had been present since he'd awoken in the hospital that morning. Hermione offered him a brief smile before glancing at his mother, who had moved to the corner of the office and stood motionless as she waited for Dumbledore to begin. The Minister nodded at her silently and moved behind the desk, quickly locating the box containing his Pensieve.

As the Minister placed the Pensieve on Professor McGonagall's desk, Harry felt a sudden attack of anxiety begin. Anxiousness, not for what he would see, but for the guilt he knew he'd feel once he had a better understand of everything Tonks had gone through for him. In spite of the vague reassurance Sirius had tried to give him, he had the uneasy suspicion she would never be the same. Never again the funny, smart, capable person he'd gotten to know when the Order met. Much as his own life experiences had shaped him.

Harry knew she'd volunteered to arrest Snape, but that didn't lessen the guilt. Yes, she'd gone into it with her eyes open. She'd wanted to protect him, as had so many other people who'd ended up hurt. Knowing why and seeing how she'd suffered were not the same thing in Harry's book. One was her a consequence of her job. The other? Pointless torture she'd endured because Snape had hated _him_. When all was said and done, did he really need to see how much the man had hated him? Did anyone? Still, Harry felt he had to do it. His guilt was a small price to pay for a life that would never be the same.

Dumbledore watched Harry from the other side of the desk, one eyebrow raised in question. When he spoke, Harry swore the man was reading his thoughts. Not for the first time that day. "You don't have to do this if you're feeling uncomfortable," he said. To Harry's relief, he seemed to be addressing the room at large.

"Are you sure you want to go with us?" Harry asked, turning to face his girlfriend. Hermione had been fumbling with the catch on her cloak before finally getting it to release. She tossed the garment onto the nearest chair and crossed her arms, taking a deep breath as she gathered her nerve.

Hermione nodded at Harry and turned to his mother. She cleared her throat to get Lily's attention. "I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier," she said softly, walking closer. "I don't know what came over me. I hope you're not upset with me."

Lily smiled and patted the girl's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. There have been enough apologies to go around today. I understand you were just looking out for Harry. I might've done the same in your position." Her expression became thoughtful. "Though, not in such strong language."

Hermione blushed and brought one hand to her face. "I'm so—"

Suddenly, Harry clamped a hand over her mouth. She looked at him with wide eyes, talking from behind his fingers. "We're all sorry for a lot that we've said because this has been…a long, difficult weekend," he said. If killing his stepfather and finding out Voldemort could still come back counted as difficult, then yes, the past several days fit the description nicely. "Maybe we'll feel better if we stop talking about it," Harry added. He removed his hand from Hermione's mouth and replaced it with his lips. Lily looked on, a bemused expression on her face.

"I'm supposed to be upset with you for cutting me off," Hermione said when he pulled away. She grabbed his hand and laced her fingers through his. "Why can't I stay mad at you?"

"Because you love me and helping me stay calm through all of this craziness is a much better use of your energy," Harry said. He leaned in to kiss her again, blushing lightly when Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Are we ready to begin, then?" Dumbledore asked. The silvery light emitting from the basin reflected off of his face and beard, giving him the appearance of a ghost.

Lily stepped forward and took Harry's other hand before nodding.

"Auror Tonks wanted me to assure all of you that in spite of how difficult this may be to watch, she does not regret taking on this assignment, nor does she blame anyone for what happened," Dumbledore said, looking directly at Harry. "I have yet to view this memory, but I understand it is quite graphic and lasts approximately fifteen minutes—from the time she entered the office until she fell unconscious. I'm giving you all one last chance to avoid seeing this."

"If it becomes too much for one of the children, I can send them out," Lily said.

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well." He reached for Lily's hand. "Let's begin."  


* * *

  
Strong hands shaking his shoulder forced Harry awake. In the low light of the common room fire, he caught sight of a loudly snoring painting above the fireplace and then Hermione came into view, her brows pushed together in concern.

"Did I scream again?" Harry asked. He reached over to the table and retrieved his glasses.

She shook her head. "No, but you were moving around so much, I thought you were going to fall to the floor." Hermione pushed the blanket covering them aside and pulled out her wand. Raising it, she dried the sweat from his face and clothes. "You know, Madam Pomfrey could give you something to help you sleep."

"I know," Harry responded, "but I'd rather not let anyone know I'm back in the castle."

"I don't know why. Everyone will know in the morning when we come down for breakfast," Hermione said. "Besides, Professor McGonagall already told our professors we'd be coming back tonight. They're expecting us to return to class tomorrow. Well, me anyway. You may get the day off."

"Why?"

"I don't know, because you're having nightmares and a crazy person tried to kill you a few days ago?" Hermione suggested. "They may even care that you've just lost a beloved member of your family," she said. One hand went over her heart in mock sympathy.

"Don't joke like that, my stomach can't take it."

Hermione moved closer to him on the sofa. His arm slipped around her shoulders as she settled against his side. "Are you sure you don't want to lay down in your dorm?" she asked. "You might feel more comfortable."

"I think my roommates would feel more comfortable if the resident murderer didn't sneak into the room in the middle of the night," Harry said. "I'd rather not hear Ron screaming for help when he sees me outside his curtains. Would probably make my headache worse."

"He would not scream," she said slowly.

"Too scared to make a noise?" Harry asked. "You're right. He is more likely to squeak or something."

"Harry, stop it. No one is going to think you're a murderer. Nobody even knows the whole story. All that _Prophet_ article said was that there was to be an arrest at the school, several people were injured and one died. It even stated the death was an accident."

"Exactly my point, Hermione. A professor gets killed on school grounds and there's hardly anything about it in the _Prophet_. Everyone is going to know there was some kind of cover-up. Why would something need to be hidden if everything that happened was above-board?" he asked. "I don't know who's idea it was to keep it completely out of the paper, but it's just going to make people more likely to be suspicious of me."

"You're being paranoid," Hermione said. "You have no idea if people are going to be suspicious of you."

Harry thought back to the beginning of his fifth year, when a series of _Prophet_ articles had convinced most of his classmates and the Wizarding world that he had killed Cedric Diggory and Dumbledore had been fooled into covering it up. He knew better than to take anyone giving him the benefit of the doubt for granted. He'd be lucky if they didn't run him out of the castle.

"Don't I?" he asked. "No one has seen either of us around for days. Everyone knows I hated Snape. After all the crap he'd been giving me the past couple of weeks, you don't think I'm the number one suspect in his death?"

"I don't think the possible rumors are what's got you so worked up right now," she said quietly. "Are you finally ready to tell me about it?"

Harry started to say no again, but hesitated at her pleading look. She'd agreed to sleep with him in the common room, the least he could do was be honest. Hermione was scared for him. If he was going all the way with the honesty thing, what he'd seen had scared him too. It wasn't so much what had happened, it was the strength of feeling behind it. The kind of impotent fury that had lain dormant so long, Harry was surprised a stray comment in the hall or mouthing off one day in class hadn't caused Snape to vaporize him without hesitation. And for the bastard to say the only thing stopping him was Harry's mother? It made him sick to think of it.

"I was dreaming about the memory we watched earlier." Hermione settled her head on his chest and Harry pulled the blanket up around both of them. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember everything that happened. "I was tied to the chair and Snape was screaming at me. He was going on about a new world order and how he and Voldemort were going to set things to rights."

Even repeating the grandiose delusions he'd heard had the power to turn Harry's stomach, though he felt sure they would never come true. Still, when he thought of the number of people who had been hurt—and still might be—because one wizard had chosen the darkest path imaginable, he couldn't imagine where he'd get the strength to stand up to an evil that wouldn't die, let alone how he might win.

"Harry?" Hermione turned her face up towards his. Her hair brushed his arm and her breath warmed his skin when she spoke. "You're shaking. If you don't want to tell me the rest…"

"No, I'll tell you," he said. "Maybe if I get do, the nightmares will stop and we can get some sleep." He opened his eyes and looked down at her, smiling at her concern in spite of the imagery flashing through his mind. Harry squeezed her tight briefly before continuing. "He was going on about what they were going to do and then Voldemort started hurting me—well, Tonks. It was strange because when we watched the memory earlier, I saw it the same way you and my mum and Dumbledore did. But when I've dreamed it, I was in her body. He was hurting me, they both were. I could actually feel her pain."

One hand went to rub at his scar. Minutes before, he could swear the mark was pulsating with the same rage he'd felt from outside the office when Tonks was being tortured. Now, it was quiet. With all he'd learned that day about Horcruxes and his own part in thwarting Voldemort's plans, Harry couldn't help but think it was the quiet before the storm.

"I was screaming from the pain, screaming for him to let me go, to give me a few minutes to rest, promising he wouldn't be locked up, that he could go free if he just let me go and disappeared. I promised that the Ministry wouldn't go after Snape as long as he didn't bring Voldemort back. I know Tonks didn't really say half of that, but I think it was in her head to say to him when he was hurting her. I don't know, I guess Voldemort was reading her thoughts and transferred some of them to me. It may not even be real. Then, something strange happened. I went from being in her body to being inside the snake. I was Voldemort in the dream."

He'd been the snake again just as he'd dreamt of attacking Arthur Weasley months before, in another life. Only this time, the injuries had been more severe than any of them could've imagined. Harry knew it even if no one would tell him the full extent. He knew it just by dreaming of what Voldemort did to her, by becoming him in his own mind.

"He was hurting her through her thoughts somehow; it's hard to explain. It was like, he was taking every fear and every nightmare she'd ever had and making them real, creating memories of these things, pushing her until every injury she'd ever suffered, every loss or heartbreak or whatever seemed like it was happening. It was all in her mind but it was causing her real physical pain and fear. He was laughing the entire time. He was trying to drive her crazy."

Harry paused, suddenly remembering Snape's warning during his first Occlumency lesson that he could access memories Harry feared and use them as weapons. Now he knew the full meaning of that statement. "When Snape was torturing Tonks, Voldemort told him not to kill her because he wanted her to live with her injuries. So she could spend the rest of her life suffering."

It had taken everything Tonks had to withstand the continuous mental and physical assault. Her Auror training had given her a great advantage—one Harry never could have matched if he'd been the one helpless in the chair—but he knew what she'd gone through had gone much further than even three years of training could have prepared her for. All night he'd been telling himself he wasn't responsible, but that didn't begin to lessen the guilt and pain settling in for the long haul. In all actuality, Harry didn't think anything would. Nothing short of her seemingly improbable full recovery.

Harry felt Hermione's tears seeping through his shirt and quickly realized his own were joining hers. After the last eighteen or so hours, he wouldn't have thought he'd be capable of producing any more tears for a long while, but it felt right to grieve what had happened to someone who didn't deserve it.

"Was that the end of the dream?" Hermione asked after a minute.

"No," Harry cleared his throat. "Right before she passed out, Voldemort said, 'Don't hold out for my mercy. This is only the beginning.'" Though simple, the words served as a cold omen for the long fight ahead. One that could only end in death.

"Unfortunately, he was right," Hermione whispered. "If what Dumbledore said is true, you could spend most of your life doing this."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harry said. "When this is all done, I will be too."

Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position. "I thought you weren't afraid of death," she said. "For the past couple of weeks—"

"For the past couple of weeks, I was sure Snape was going to kill me. I just wanted the chance to take him out before the curse got me. Now…" Harry shrugged. "I don't have the same expectations I had a few days ago. I thought if he was out of the picture, everything else would be fine. My mum can barely talk to me. I never thought I might not be able to have a close relationship with her. Maybe she'll want to one day, but I can tell all of this is killing her."

"She was doing fine earlier," Hermione observed. "She came back to your hospital room to talk to you and you were getting along when she came back to Hogwarts with us."

"Yeah, but she's going to miss the son she had. Especially now." He paused. "So are you."

Hermione frowned. "Harry, we talked about this."

He nodded, watching her expression flicker from uncertainty to concern.

"You know how I feel about you," she said.

"I know we jumped into a relationship and there's no rush now."

"Jumped? What are you saying?" Hermione pushed back further, letting the blanket slide from her shoulders and pool around them on the sofa. "You can't keep going back and forth like this." She sighed. "I don't know what I can say to you anymore," she said softly.

"I'm not changing my mind," he said. "I'm trying to be honest. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I don't want to feel like we're going to be together for the wrong reasons." He stopped, reluctant to make his next admission. "Earlier at the hospital, when I was crying and started kissing you, I didn't think about what I was doing at the time." He paused and looked down at his hands. "It was just like with Cho. I never considered that she did the same thing to me. She was crying over Cedric, thinking about some other pain in her life and using me to forget it. There's no telling how many times she did that." _Or how many times I've already done it_, he thought.

"I don't want to do that to you. You deserve better."

"I deserve _you_ in my life," Hermione said. "You keep telling me how smart I am, so you should know I am capable of figuring out what's going on between us." She reached for his hand. "I am glad you're talking to me about this. A lot of other boys wouldn't be concerned at all. Or they wouldn't care if they did consider it. Let me worry about it. With everything else that's going on, a relationship with me is the last thing you should be scared of."

He squeezed her hand. It wasn't that he was afraid, but going after what he really wanted hadn't served him too well recently. He wanted to take the next step with her, but didn't have the first clue what he would do if everything went wrong. Hermione would encourage him to take the chance anyway, if only for her own reasons. Was it worth the risk? There were many opportunities to screw everything up, but only one chance to do it right. When the time came, Harry hoped he'd make the right choice.

"That's what I'm saying, Hermione. Anything could happen and the more serious we get, the harder it's going to be on both of us when something happens."

"_If_ something happens. I'm not going to put my life on hold because there's a madwoman on the loose with a Horcrux and an old notebook," Hermione said. "Dumbledore is going to help you and Neville live through this. With a lot of help from your mum and Sirius and everyone at the Ministry and me. You don't have to look at your life like it's going to end any day now. You deserve a real chance at life," she said, unconsciously echoing Dumbledore's words from days earlier.

"Are you going to need constant reassurance about us?" she asked. "I'm ready to give it, but I think you'll get sick of me repeating the same things over and over."

"Would it be something like do your essays, eat some breakfast, don't provoke the Death Eater married to your mother?"

She frowned. "Harry."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. A smile slowly dawned on his face. "I did tell you there's one way you can help me stay calm." Harry tugged on her hand and pulled her closer. She turned her head away when he tried to kiss her. "What is it?"

"Isn't this what you told me you were doing at the hospital? Using physical contact as a distraction?"

"Come on, Hermione." At her stare, he frowned. "Fine, I'll say it. I don't need constant reassurance from you. I know you love me."

"How do you feel?"

The quiet question unnerved him. She'd smiled afterward, but he knew it was one of suppressed disappointment, not calm acceptance of his inability to answer. The way she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek did nothing to change that fact.

"Goodnight, Harry." Hermione stood and stretched.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep in my bed," she answered. She yawned loudly and picked up the blanket and her wand. "I think the nightmares are done."

As Harry watched her ascend the stairs, he found himself vehemently disagreeing. If the past few days were any indication, the nightmares were far from over. It was just beginning.  


* * *

  
Harry's morning didn't begin any better than his night had ended. He awoke to the sounds of his roommates getting dressing and talking—about him. It wasn't so much that they were gossiping more than Lavender and Parvati on an average day, it was that two of them seemed more than a little unsure of his innocence. Just as he'd told Hermione. What a time for her to be wrong.

"I don't care what McGonagall said," Seamus remarked. "He's been acting loopy since school started. He'd been fighting with Professor Snape, we all saw it. Now he's dead. If she didn't think Harry was dangerous, why'd she keep him locked up in her office all last week?"

"Hermione was in there too," Ron reminded him. "Besides, he was still sleeping here."

"Where have they been since Saturday?" Dean asked. "We were in the Great Hall for hours for some emergency and they were the only ones not there."

"Malfoy wasn't with Slytherin either," Ron put in.

"You in on it too Weasley?" Seamus asked. "You seem to be full of answers about Potter."

"Full of something," Dean added. The three of them began arguing. Harry lost track of the accusations and arguments being traded about him.

"He talked to us," Neville said over the din. The other boys fell silent. "If the rumors are true and Professor Snape was being arrested, what Harry told me was right. They were in there for protection. Looks like they needed it."

"If Harry's a killer now, who's going to protect us from him?" Dean asked.

"If you ask nicely, maybe you can hide behind McGonagall's robes," Harry called out. The room became quiet again. He reached for his glasses and parted the curtains to get out of bed. The four boys eyed him as he crossed the room to where they had gathered around the foot of Dean's bed. "What happened Saturday is in the _Prophet_ for anyone to read," Harry said.

Seamus didn't seem mollified by this. "It's a bunch of crap thrown out by the Ministry to cover something up. Whatever _you_ did."

"What did I do?" Harry asked. "You're not completely brainless. If I was dangerous, do you think McGonagall would want me here?"

"Maybe you threatened her."

Harry sighed. "I was wrong, you are brainless." He turned to Neville and Ron. "Thanks for at least trying to talk some sense into them." With a nod at both of them, he retrieved a change of clothes and his wand from his bedside and went into the bathroom. At this point, he didn't put it past anyone to try a sneak attack. He figured he'd had enough surprises.  


* * *

  
When Harry came out of the bathroom, he found Neville waiting for him. The other boy's expression was unreadable, but the tightly crossed arms and tapping foot bespoke a tension Harry had felt almost constantly for the past two weeks. Before he could ask what was going on, Neville said, "I think it's about time you told me the truth."

Harry nodded and moved over to his bed. He sat down and waved Neville over. For the first time since it had all started, he wanted to lie, wanted to protect his friend and roommate from the darkness that lay ahead. But he knew, even as he told himself he could do it, no good would be served by keeping the only other person tied to Voldemort in the dark. Raising his wand, Harry locked the door and put a silencing charm on it.

"Do you remember when I told you what was going on wasn't about you?" Neville nodded. Harry knew he was thinking of the cryptic conversation they'd had a week before when Harry had done nothing to allay his fears of another possible attack, leaving him with more questions than answers.

Harry took a deep breath. There was nothing left to it but to plough straight ahead. "Has anyone ever told you the real reason Voldemort killed your parents?"

Neville laughed shortly. There was no humor in the gesture, but Harry could see the other boy was looking for a hint that he was joking. "You know something no one else knows?"

"You're going to think this is completely mad," Harry said.

"You're assuming I don't think that already," Neville responded. "Something weird happened Saturday and I felt…I don't know what it was. I nearly passed out again. I told Lavender it was just a headache, but you and I know better, don't we? Tell me everything."

Harry looked down at the wand in his hand and remembered that Neville owned one exactly like it. He held it up for the other boy to see. "There's a good reason you and I were both chosen by a holly and phoenix feather wand." He caught Neville's eye. "We were both marked by Voldemort," he said. Then, he told Neville the bare bones of a tale of two boys with scars and one common destiny.

"The Minister told you this?" Neville asked when he had finished. Harry nodded. "The old bloke with the long beard and the pocket full of lemon drops?" Neville shook his head. "Ron always said he's a complete nutter." Neville paused, considering. "That, or you might be."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not going to deny that. No reason some of this can't have driven me a little crazy and still be true. Even if you don't believe all of it, you know some of what's been happening at Hogwarts lately has been a little strange."

"That's just it, Harry. No one knows what's really going on outside of you, Hermione and Professor McGonagall," Neville said. "You can't even prove any of this."

"Dumbledore said he'd try to provide proof later." At Neville's skeptical expression, he added, "I know how that sounds, but when he was telling me the Horcrux bit yesterday, he said he had to do more research or tests or something. Proving the rest of it true is a bit more complicated than what I'm in the mood for right now."

"I don't know how much of this I should believe. I don't want to think you'd lie to me about something serious, but this?" Neville asked. "It's not like I can Owl Dumbledore to ask him if this is true. He'd probably send the letter straight to St. Mungo's so they can figure out why the Boy Who Lived is cracking up."

"He wouldn't do that," Harry said. "Besides, he'll be here later for the funeral. You can talk to him then." One corner of Harry's mouth quirked up. "Actually, he'll be pretty peeved that I told you anything, but I never promised him I wouldn't. I just waited until…well, Snape was supposed to be arrested Saturday. Dumbledore might have planned to talk to you that night, but you already know things didn't quite go as planned."

"Did you kill him?" Neville asked.

Harry paused before he could state the outright denial. He hadn't actually promised his mother he'd never tell anyone the truth about it. Still, he didn't want Neville thinking he was a crazed killer on top of everything else he might be thinking. "If I hadn't gotten involved, everyone in the room would've been killed," he said finally. "I'm not saying I did it all on my own, but they needed the extra help and I was there. I was pretty lucky I didn't get killed. All I got was a weekend in the hospital."

"So why not tell the _Daily Prophet_ that?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe Dumbledore didn't want to start a panic about Death Eaters on the rise and two of them being former Hogwarts professors. I didn't get any input into that article, otherwise I might have asked that they didn't mention a student was involved at all. I could do without the hassle."

"I'm not sure it was right to defend you this morning," Neville said quietly.

Harry lowered his eyes to the wand laying on his bed and said nothing. He couldn't think of anything that seemed adequate anyway. He knew how he would've felt if he'd grown up the way Neville had and someone came to him with this outrageous story out of nowhere. It had been enough of a shock finding out he was a wizard and what Voldemort had done to his parents without all the rest of it. In spite of his repeated wishes for honesty, Harry wasn't sure how he would've reacted if Dumbledore had told him everything he knew the first day they'd met, or even after Voldemort and Quirrell had come after the Philosopher's Stone. Even in the Wizarding world, some things just seemed too far outside the realm of possibility without proof.

Both boys jumped and looked over as the door to their dorm emitted a loud crack and then swung open wildly, slamming into the wall behind it. Hermione came in, wand drawn, looking around frantically until she spotted both boys on the bed.

"What's going on?" she asked, running across the room. "What happened? I asked Ron where you were and he said Neville asked to be left alone with you. I wasn't sure—"

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said, cutting off what could've been a long explanation. "You worry too much."

She glared at him. "After what's happened the past couple of weeks, of course I'm—" She cut off abruptly and smiled at Neville. "Not that I think you'd hurt Harry, but you wouldn't believe some of the stories going around the Great Hall this morning," she said, turning back to Harry. "I almost got into it with that obnoxious twit Parkinson, going on about how you turned in Draco's dad on false charges." Hermione rolled her eyes and joined them on the bed..

"Mr. Malfoy was arrested?" Neville asked.

"Wait, that wasn't in the _Prophet_?" Harry asked. "I thought sure that would've been part of the article."

Hermione shook her head. "No, remind me to show it to you later. The article was really short. It hardly said anything about…you know," she whispered, glancing at Neville.

"I told him everything," Harry said.

"Oh," Hermione responded. "Everything?" she asked a beat later, her eyes widening.

"I don't believe a word of it," Neville said. "You do?"

"That's obvious, isn't it?" She lay one hand over Harry's on the bed. "If you'd seen half of what we had, you would have no trouble at all believing it."

"Death Eaters and You-Know-Who coming after me and Harry because of a prophecy?" Neville looked back and forth between the two of them. "How could you expect anyone to believe it? Any sane person," he added as Hermione started to respond.

"Did you show him your other scar?" Hermione asked, picking up Harry's hand. She thrust it forward for Neville's inspection. "Or the prophecy?"

"What?" Harry turned to her as Neville's eyes widened at the words carved into the back of his hand.

"The globe you got from the Department of Mysteries, Harry. You do still have it?" Hermione asked. She stood and looked around, quickly spotting the bag with his belongings inside. She pulled out the small glass globe and placed it on the bed. "That should be all the proof you need," she said.

Harry picked up the globe. Unconsciously, he held his breath as small tendrils of smoke swirled around the center before dissipating, leaving the small globe clear again.

"Right," Neville said. "I don't know how I ever could've doubted your story." He started to stand.

"Hold on," Hermione said. "Why don't you hold it, Neville?"

Frowning, he sighed and took the globe from Harry, watching as the inside began filling with thin, silvery smoke before it became clear again. "Wow," he said. "Another big finish."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione snapped. She stood and grabbed Neville's wrist in one hand. Taking Harry's hand in the other, she brought them together, closing their fingers around the small globe on either side.

Within seconds, dark whorls of smoke filled the small globe, swirling until they reached a peak at the center and appeared to be coming out of the top. Harry gasped at the sight. Neville jumped and pulled his hand back as if something had bitten him. The globe fell to the bed.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist again. "You wanted to find out how much is true. This is your chance." She turned to Harry.

He'd already picked up the globe again and was waiting for Neville to join him in holding it. Together, the three teenagers watched as the smoke swirled and peaked again, and a figure of a woman appeared just above the globe's surface, her image made murky by the dark smoke. Her voice rang out loud and clear, speaking the words of the prophecy that had changed the course of Neville and Harry's lives forever. When it was done, Neville snatched his shaking hand back and Harry lowered the globe to the bed.

"W-what does it mean? Why did it only work for both of us?" Neville asked.

"I think it's clear," Harry said. "Whatever has to happen for Voldemort to die, we have to do it together. That's the only way for this to end."


	2. Disturbing Thoughts

Harry was grateful for Hermione's hand in his the moment he stepped into the Great Hall. It seemed every eye was on him, worse than his first day back after Cedric had been killed, more intense even than the stares he'd gotten after he and Neville had collapsed during class the week before. Even the professors seemed to be watching them as they crossed the room, Neville in the lead. They hadn't gotten more than a few steps when the first whispers reached Harry's ears and he frowned. A few seconds later, he found himself standing in front of Draco Malfoy. The other boy wore a forbidding expression; his grey eyes were dark as they regarded him.

Ignoring everyone else, he said, "I need to talk to you, Potter."

_Finally_, Harry thought. _The Malfoy I'm familiar with._ "What about?"

"You know damn well what about," he responded. His voice had carried in spite of its relative soft tone. The other students had fallen nearly silent to hear the exchange.

"Look Malfoy, I don't have anything to say to you," Harry said.

"You owe me an explanation," Draco said, his pale face quickly turning red. "Why'd you do it?" He pulled out his wand and thrust it under Harry's chin.

Harry's eyes narrowed as his head was forced back. "You have about ten seconds to remove that," Harry said softly. The hard wood dug into the soft skin.

"Or what?" Draco asked. "You'll kill me?"

"No, but I will give you both a week's detention if you carry on like this," McGonagall interrupted. She made a shooing motion with her hands. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, I need to see you both outside just after the bell." She waited for Draco to walk back to the Slytherin table, then moved to her place at the center of the staff table.

Hermione tugged at Harry's arm. "Come on, Harry. You've got just enough time to grab something to eat."

He followed her to the table, lost in thought. If Draco blamed him for what had happened to Snape or his own father, did that mean they had no chance of getting information from him? Not that Harry had thought there was a good chance the other boy would be on his side after Bellatrix Lestrange went on the run, but after the few things Draco had shared with him, he hadn't known what to expect.

Harry endured the rest of the allotted breakfast time in silence, ignoring the stares and whispers from his classmates. Once, he and Neville exchanged a long look and the other boy gave him a brief nod, one Harry took to mean that he believed him. Maybe it wasn't an outright statement of support of his claims, but at least Neville was less likely to go around thinking Harry had lost his mind.

The minute the bell rang, Harry and Hermione made their way to the hall. Harry studiously ignored the way other students curved around them as they walked, as if they were afraid he would turn and hex them if they brushed against his clothes. Hermione, on the other hand, looked ready to hex the next person who gave the pair a sidelong look. She was scowling by the time they reached Professor McGonagall in the Entrance Hall.

"Let me guess," Harry began. "You missed me so much over the weekend, you can't wait to have me in your office for more quality time."

This earned him a wry smile from the Headmistress. "While I did find your company fascinating, I don't believe it will be necessary to deprive the rest of the students and faculty of your presence. No, I wanted to speak with you about your mother," Professor McGonagall said.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.

Professor McGonagall smiled again and it was then Harry noticed how uncomfortable she appeared. She wrung her hands and nodded in the direction of the last of the students leaving the Great Hall on the way to class. When the hall was empty, she turned back to Hermione and Harry.

"Your mother seems…strange this morning."

"She's here?" Harry asked.

The Headmistress nodded. "She came back not long after she'd left last night. Apparently, Raven was quite upset and insisted on sleeping in her father's quarters. Lily did not wish to upset her further." McGonagall looked down and shifted her feet. "This morning, she seems…I don't know. Out of sorts." She raised her eyes to Harry again. "I hate to put this on you, but I have a lot to take care of this morning and I think it would help her to have family around. At least, someone a bit older than your sister."

"I'll take care of her," Harry said.

"Miss Granger, do you mind keeping them company?"

"No, of course not," Hermione responded. "Are you sure I won't be missed in class?"

McGonagall shook her head. "No, your professors understand that…recent events necessitate special circumstances. If I remember correctly, you've already completed a number of your class assignments for this week." She turned to Harry. "If you need the time, you may miss class tomorrow as well."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," he said. "I'm fine."

"You just got out of the hospital," Hermione reminded him.

"I mean, I'm not grieving or anything," he clarified. "If I wasn't well, they wouldn't have released me from St. Mungo's."

"Correct, Harry," McGonagall put in before Hermione could argue further. "Please let your mother know I will have lunch sent for you all if she wishes. Or she can take lunch in my office if she needs a break from the dungeons. I don't believe she'll want to have lunch in the Great Hall."

Harry nodded and they watched as the Headmistress took off at a brisk pace down the hall. Harry turned towards the stairs and Hermione followed him to the dungeons.

"Did anything about that strike you as strange?" Harry asked.

"A little, but she's worried about your mum. You were worried about her yesterday, remember?"

"Yeah," Harry responded. "But there was something odd about the way Professor McGonagall was looking at me."

"She's not afraid of you, Harry," Hermione stated, easily reading his thoughts.

He nodded, wondering how Hermione could be so sure. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. When they reached Snape's living quarters, they found Lily standing in the front room, surrounded by stacks of boxes. As they watched, she conjured a large cardboard box and moved a row of books from the top of a bookshelf into it.

After the events of the last few days, Harry wondered where he should begin. It had been a little awkward between them the night before, in spite of what Hermione thought, but he still didn't know how to relate to the woman in front of him. It was as if, by her hastily spoken words, they really had become strangers and he was the interloper stealing her from her real son. At least, that's how he figured she felt. Like he was the substitute his mother would have to love in place of the real thing. Harry had no idea what he could do to fix something as depressing, and as accurate, as that.

Hermione elbowed him in his side. When he turned to her, scowling, she pointed into the room and motioned forward with her head.

"Want some help?" Harry asked finally.

Lily jumped and turned towards them. "You scared me. Don't sneak around like that." She lowered her wand.

"Sorry," he responded, stepping further into the room. "I didn't realize you'd be here so early."

She shrugged. "I knew Professor McGonagall wouldn't want these things around for long, so I thought I'd get them out of the way while I was in the mood for it."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Hermione before walking closer to his mother. "Are you okay? Did you need anything?"

Lily lowered the next stack of books into the box before looking at her son. "Of course I'm okay, Harry. Why wouldn't I be?" She smiled and conjured another box next to the first. "There's just a lot to be rid of and I want to be sure I get it all out before nightfall. Cleaning up other people's messes always takes longer than you'd expect," she said. Clearing her throat, she turned to face him and Hermione. "What have you been up to? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Professor McGonagall gave us permission to spend time with you this morning," Hermione said. "Afternoon classes have been cancelled."

"Why?" Lily asked. She paused and her smile faltered. "Oh…well, I can see why some of the students may feel like going to the service. I suppose a few of them may even miss Severus."

Harry refrained from asking if she would be one of those who would miss him. He didn't really want to know. Even with her brisk, happy manner this morning, he could sense she was going through a lot she wasn't articulating. "Do you really have to go to that?" Harry asked. "People will understand."

"Your sister won't," Lily reminded him. "Before you get any ideas, you'll have to be there too," she added.

Harry sighed and moved forward to hug his mother. She accepted his embrace stiffly. "I'll try to be good," he said.

Lily laughed. It was a thin, hollow sound. "I think I've heard that before. Just…don't talk about him at all if saying nice things becomes too taxing. I'm sure the ceremony won't last too long and the burial—I just realized there won't be one. Dumbledore wouldn't tell me why." Her eyes dropped.

"Mum—"

"Don't tell me, Harry," she said, waving her hand absently. "I think it's best if we just move on." She turned to the open box in front of her and sealed it closed. "The ceremony today won't last long, at any rate. I can come back and finish this and then Raven and I are going back to stay with Sirius for a little while."

"Where is Raven?" Harry asked.

Lily stopped what she was doing and looked towards the hall leading to the back rooms. "She's hugging her father's pillow because it smells like him." She turned back to the two teenagers. "I told her she could stay there until it's time to leave."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I can only imagine how difficult this is for you."

Lily nodded and turned to conjure another box. Hermione locked eyes with Harry and nodded her head in the direction of the hall. Glancing briefly at his mother, he nodded once at Hermione and then walked down the hall. He was scarcely gone a minute before Lily spoke.

"I see you've had no problems adjusting."

Hermione nearly dropped the stacks of books she'd begun levitating. "What do you mean?" she asked in a halting voice.

Lily turned to Hermione and smiled. For reasons she couldn't immediately place, the gesture gave the teenager a chill. "I mean the two of you seem awfully close, considering that you were in love with someone else a few weeks ago."

Hermione blinked hard. "I…well, I still love—"

"I find it hard to believe your feelings are genuine," Lily said as if Hermione hadn't spoken. The bright green eyes narrowed. "That, or you didn't feel quite so deeply for my son the first time around," she said softly, turning back to the half-empty box on the floor.

Hermione's eyes widened at the implication. "That's not fair," she said. "Of course I love him. This has been very difficult for me."

"So I've gathered."

"He needs me," Hermione said. She stepped closer to Lily. "He doesn't have…he didn't feel like he had anyone else and I've been there from the beginning."

Lily nodded and lowered another stack of books into a box. "Ah, so it's all about a scar and certain death?"

"What?" The stack of books dropped to the floor. Hermione took no notice as she watched Harry's mother, her face suffusing with color and her hands shaking.

"You're infatuated with a tragic hero," Lily said in a flat voice. "I understand perfectly. It's so easy to get caught up in wanting to save someone. I do hope he knows how you really feel."

"Of course he—"

Lily turned to her swiftly and Hermione stopped speaking, startled by the knowing expression in the watchful eyes. "He wasn't dating you _before_, was he?" she asked. Her brows went up as she asked the question and, again, Hermione felt uneasy as the woman in front of her smiled.

"I…no. Actually, he wasn't really sure about it before now, but—"

"But you were very convincing, weren't you?" Lily asked. "I suppose I should be relieved neither of you will be alone in this confusing time."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not like that. I love him. This isn't just so I don't have to be alone now."

"Of course not. The two of you have strong, _pure_ feelings for each other. And you know his feelings for you aren't based on any…physical favors he may be expecting?" She smiled at Hermione. "I may not have raised him, but that doesn't mean I won't protect him if I have to. You should remember that."

"I am hardly someone you have to protect Harry from," she said weakly.

Lily nodded and went back to packing books.  


* * *

  
Harry walked slowly down the short hall to the last bedroom. He hesitated outside the half-closed door, forcibly reminding himself that he wasn't to blame for what had happened to Snape. The man had brought it on himself. Small comfort that would be to his sister, he knew. Harry eased the door open and slipped into the cool air beyond it. The room was dark. When his eyes adjusted, he saw his sister sprawled in the middle of the bed, surrounded by pillows, one clutched tightly in her arms as she buried her face in it.

_Time to be a big brother_, he thought. Harry cleared his throat.

The minute she saw him, Raven ran over to Harry and wrapped her arms around his legs. He knelt down to the little girl and she moved her arms around his neck, squeezing hard enough to choke off his air supply. "Harry-bear, Daddy's gone," she said just before she started crying.

He knew, without having to be told, it was not the first time she had cried that day, nor would it be the last. He had the feeling this was just one of many times his sister would be crying over her father, and the thought made Harry hold her even tighter. He felt a fresh wave of guilt overtake him as he held Raven, though he wasn't at all sorry for had happened to Snape in the end—especially after reviewing Tonks's memory. He was sorry his sister had lost someone she loved so much—and even sorrier that Snape wasn't the kind of man who deserved her tears and she would never know the truth about it. At least, not from him. He hadn't disputed his mother when she'd asked, but Harry knew there was no way he could tell his sister the truth about her father. She'd been hurt enough and the last thing he wanted was to make her pain any worse.

Raven pulled away from him and sniffled, wiping at her eyes frantically with her hands and sleeves. "Did you see him?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. He followed as his sister lead him over to the bed and sat down. She immediately clutched at the center pillow again, squeezing it as she looked up at her brother.

"Mummy says there won't be a burial because he's not here anymore," Raven said. "You were there for the accident, did you see where he went?"

"No," Harry responded. "She told you that?"

Raven shook her head. "Sirius. Then she said she's glad because it won't hurt as much if she doesn't have to look at him." Tears spilled down the girl's face as she regarded her brother. "What did she mean?"

Harry pulled his sister to his side. He wished suddenly his mother had been careful to make sure she wasn't being overheard. He'd have to talk to her about that. "She means," Harry began, "seeing your daddy again will make her more sad than she already is."

"You mean if she sees a picture, it might make her cry?"

Harry nodded. "If you want, you can keep all of your daddy's pictures from the house in your room. I don't think she'll mind."

"But, after she stops being sad, won't she want one for herself?" Raven asked. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks on her sleeve again.

"I'm sure she has plenty," Harry responded smoothly. "And it would make you feel better to have them with you, right?"

Raven nodded. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispered. She dropped the pillow and turned her face into her brother's robes. "I don't know what I would do if you were gone too," she said.

"You're never going to lose me," Harry promised. He only hoped he could stick to that promise as time went on. He looked around the room. Even without the sound of his sister's sniffles, Harry felt the room was as cheerful as Snape himself had been. He didn't know how his mother could stand to sleep here when she visited.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Harry asked. "Hermione can go with us. If you want," he added.

Raven nodded and slid off the bed to her feet, clasping her brother's hand as she led the way from the darkened bedroom. When they entered the front room, they found Lily standing in front of the half-empty bookshelf, still packing boxes and Hermione staring at her, red-faced and trembling.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked. He tried to run across the room to her, but Raven held his hand tight. He settled for walking slowly, pulling his sister along.

Hermione had jumped when he'd spoken, her eyes quickly moving away from his mother. "Me? I'm fine." Her voice had come out abnormally high. Harry's eyes widened. Hermione cleared her throat and looked away from them briefly. "How are the two of you?" she asked in a softer tone, smiling at Raven.

"We're going for a walk," Raven informed her. "Are you coming too?"

Hermione nodded quickly, glancing briefly at Lily before returning her gaze to the brother and sister. "I think now is a great time for a walk. I feel suffocated in here."

"We'll be back before lunch," Harry told his mother as the trio reached the door. He waited for her response as Raven tugged impatiently at his hand. Lily merely smiled briefly in his direction and nodded before returning to her packing.  


* * *

  
They were out of the dungeons and walking towards the front doors when Harry turned to Hermione. "Care to tell me what that was about?" he asked.

Hermione stumbled mid-step before continuing her brisk stride across the Entrance Hall. "There's nothing to tell," she responded shortly, giving a pointed look at his sister. "Your mother just needed to get something off her chest. It caught me off guard."

"You look upset," Harry said.

Hermione said nothing as she reached for the front doors. They were pushed open from the outside just as her hands closed over the handles. Sirius stepped inside and smiled at the three children as he came into the Entrance Hall.

"Morning all," he said. He shook his head slowly. "You are just like your father," he said to Harry. "Never in class if you don't have to be." Sirius grinned. "Feeling better today?"

Harry shrugged. "A bit. I suppose anything's better than yesterday," he said, recalling his conversation with his mother at the hospital and the crying fit that followed. In the cold light of a new morning, the events of the past few days seemed like a long way off. Harry hoped, when he went to sleep that night, they would continue to feel that way.

Sirius nodded. "You wouldn't know where I could find Lily, would you? She left my house early this morning and she wasn't at the house in Godric's Hollow."

"She's in the dungeons packing," Harry said. "She wants to get everything done today."

"Figures she'd have that attitude," Sirius said softly, his mouth pulling into a brief frown. "I knew she wouldn't be able to put it off for long. How is your mother doing, Harry?"

He glanced briefly at his sister, now bouncing from foot to foot impatiently. "She's—"

"She's really acting strangely," Hermione said, cutting him off in a brisk tone. "I think she needs someone to talk to. Someone understanding," she added.

Harry looked at her in surprise. She ignored his stare and walked towards the doors. "We'll be back for lunch," she said to Sirius over her shoulder; she grabbed Raven's hand from Harry and led the little girl outside.  


* * *

  
The first set of shelves were nearly empty, but Lily still felt as if she'd just gotten started. Severus had lived here during the school year and she and Raven had joined him some of the time, but it still felt as if the entirety of his life was contained inside the stone walls—a life she had apparently known little about and hadn't really been a part of. The man she'd married and fought for and felt the betraying urge to cry for had left no evidence of his existence in this room. Or maybe he had. Maybe he was the one she could give herself permission to grieve and the one she welcomed into her home in Godric's Hollow was the stranger she needed to forget.

That possibility was even more depressing. She had very few memories of the respected professor in the man she married and most of the recent ones were either too painful to think of or burned so deeply into her guilty conscience she was tempted to use magic to forget them.

Her eyes caught on the middle of the next bookshelf, where a row of photographs moved in a repetitive show of happiness. The largest one, in the center of the shelf, seemed to call out to her more than the others.

Lily Summoned the photo from across the room and held the frame in one trembling hand. In it, she and Severus were standing in the middle of the park, fall leaves drifting to the ground around them as he held her. She remembered that day clearly. They'd just found out she was pregnant and her ecstatic husband couldn't stop enfolding her in his arms and pulling her close for a kiss. In the picture, he nuzzled her neck and she playfully batted at his shoulder with one hand, both of them giggling like teenagers. Tears began to fill her eyes as she looked at the moving image. She blinked them back as the door opened and Sirius Black entered the room.

She managed a smile for him. "I didn't think you'd be up this early or I might have waited for you."

He returned her smile, walking slowly into the room and pulling the door closed behind him. "I had a feeling you'd need me here," he said. Lily shrugged. Sirius wasn't fooled by her apparent nonchalance, she could tell. He pressed on. "How have you been? I bumped into the kids a few minutes ago, they seemed worried about you."

Lily looked down at the frame in her hands briefly, her pretense of a smile gone. "Did they? I don't know why they'd be worried."

He stepped closer. Lily could feel the tension moving off of his slowly moving body in thick waves. It was almost palpable in the enclosed space. "Everyone is concerned about you," Sirius said. "Hermione seems to think you need someone to talk to."

At the mention of her son's girlfriend, Lily's eyes narrowed and her spine stiffened. "Does she?" Lily asked, her voice rising in pitch. "The only thing I need is some assurance that my son is safe—particularly with her."

Sirius stared at her for a moment, his face expressionless. "What do you mean by that?" he asked carefully. "Of course he's safe with Hermione."

Lily snorted. "Don't you think it's funny that Hermione seems so taken with him after such a short time?"

He blinked hard. She'd surprised him with that question. "I never thought about it," Sirius replied honestly. "They seem to be getting along well," he said slowly, attempting to get the measure of her sudden change in mood.

Lily looked back down at the picture of her and her second husband. The faint lines around her mouth tightened minutely. "He's a very handsome boy, you know. A girl like that might start getting ideas."

"She seems very smart—"

"Oh, she is," Lily said, cutting him off. She sniffed and one hand tensed around the frame; her fingers obscured the top of her husband's head every time he moved close to the left side of the picture. "Smart enough to know how to get in on the ground floor. Now that Harry's got his inheritance, a smart, _ambitious_ girl would be a fool not to declare herself in love with him, maybe give him a child to seal the deal."

Sirius coughed at her words. "What? I'm sure their relationship isn't like that. Haven't they been friends for years? She seems to sincerely care about him."

"They all seem that way," Lily said in a suddenly trembling voice. For a few seconds, nothing in the room moved. Lily herself seemed not to breathe as she stood staring at the moving photograph, her own tension rendering her as still and emotionless as a statue. Without warning, she threw the framed photo in her hand against the wall. Sirius jumped at the sound of glass breaking.

"How do I know what she really wants from him?" she shrieked, her voice shrill. She pointed at Sirius as if accusing him of some unknown betrayal. "How do I know she's not going to turn around one day and leave him with nothing? How does he know?"

As her outburst echoed against the walls, Sirius crossed the room to put his arms around Lily. "She is not Severus," he said quietly. "She won't do that to him."

"You don't know that!" Her voice had quieted, but she was shaking in his arms. "I trusted him. I love—I loved that snake and he treated me like a possession he had to fight James for. He treated my husband like a means to an end," she whispered. "How do I protect my son from someone like that?"

"You can't be afraid to trust people for the rest of your life."

"Can't I?" she asked. "I have all the reason in the world."  


* * *

  
"If you tell me about it, maybe I can talk to her," Harry suggested.

Hermione stiffened next to him and pulled her hand out of his grasp. Her eyes went to the front of the Great Hall, where a large, unmoving portrait of their former professor looked out over the room. The easel was surrounded by long white candles and large sprays of white calla lilies. Harry had remarked that the entire set-up felt out-of-place but couldn't deny that it had to be done for appearances sake. He'd had to duck questions from a _Daily Prophet_ reporter before the brief service had begun. His mother had agreed they would all wait inside the Great Hall until the guests had left to avoid further interrogation from the one member of the media allowed to document the funeral. Her own statement would have to suffice for all of them.

"There's nothing to talk about," Hermione said, tearing her eyes away from the picture. She began studying her nails. "Just drop it."

"Why can't you tell me what's going on?" Harry asked. "Maybe I can help."

She shifted on the long wooden pew, maneuvering a few inches between her body and his on the seat. "Maybe there's nothing to help."

"Then why were you so quiet?" he asked.

"We've just been at a funeral, Harry."

He frowned. "You know what I mean. You've been like this all day." He took one of her hands in his. "Look, if my mum said something to upset you, you can tell me. I won't get mad."

It was her turn to frown. "Why would you get mad?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you said something to make her upset. Did you provoke whatever she said to you?"

Hermione's eyes shot to his face. Harry regretted his statement as soon as he saw how hurt she was by his words. Her eyes moved and Harry followed her gaze across the room to where his sister and mother had nearly reached the end of a line of students expressing their condolences. Harry wasn't sure if he was more surprised by the number of students who appeared to be genuinely sorry Snape was gone or that his mother hadn't bothered to continue pretending to be sad for the audience. After the _Prophet_ reporter had left, her "tears" mysteriously dried and she'd seemed…well, the only word for it was relieved. She'd seemed relieved that the ordeal was over.

"I did not say anything to provoke your mother," Hermione said quietly. "I wouldn't do that."

"Then, what's going on?" Harry asked. He turned back to her and lifted a hand to caress her cheek. "Please, just tell me something. You know I—" He bit back the words he couldn't bring himself to say yet. "I don't like seeing you upset like this." A definite understatement. As her eyes dropped from his again, Harry was almost glad she'd looked away. The sudden sadness he saw when she looked at him caused a funny little lurch in his chest—one he couldn't ignore. With his girlfriend refusing to give him an explanation, he had no choice but to let his imagination run wild in his concern. He would have to talk to Lily alone the first chance he got.

"Hermione, you look like you're about to cry." Harry let his thumb trace her cheekbone and she bit her lip, frowning as she pulled away from his touch. "What is it?" he whispered.

She shook her head and looked up, her eyes drifting over his shoulder.

Harry turned and smiled as his mother and sister walked over. Most of the students had left and the four were almost alone in the Great Hall. Lily returned his smile when they got close.

"I know this is probably not how you planned to spend the rest of the afternoon, but I was wondering if you could keep your sister occupied while I finish packing in the dungeons," Lily said. "If you don't mind." She smiled.

"Taking care of her isn't a problem," Hermione said, opening her arms to the little girl at her mother's side. Raven walked into Hermione's hug and buried her damp face in the other girl's shoulder.

Lily's smile tightened at the corners. She looked at Harry. "Excellent. Would you mind returning this to Professor McGonagall while you're at it?" She unbuttoned the long dress robes she wore, revealing the jeans and t-shirt she wore underneath. Lily handed the heavy black garment to her son. "She and Sirius insisted I wear something formal today. I didn't bring anything because I didn't want to get anything of mine dirty." At Harry's alarmed expression, she added, "From the packing I'll be doing."

"Sure, I can return it," Harry said. He studied his mother's expression for a few moments before deciding he didn't want to question her—at least, not in front of his sister and Hermione. "What's a Mystik Spiral?" he asked, motioning to her black and white t-shirt. "Is that a wizard band?"

"Fantastic Muggle band, actually." She smiled and tugged at the bottom of the garment. "I suppose it'll be a collector's item soon. I heard they were thinking of changing their name." She nodded at Hermione and her daughter. "I'll catch up with you all before dinner. Hopefully, I'll be done by then."

Harry nodded and watched as his mother quickly made her way past the rows of seats and through the open double doors. He turned back to Hermione. "I see you what you meant about her acting a little strange," he commented, remembering her statement to Sirius.

Hermione shrugged and stood, catching his sister's hand as she rose. "I think we could all use some fresh air," she said. She walked out with Raven, leaving Harry to catch up with them.


	3. Limited Perspective

Lily left the Great Hall at a quick pace. The sad faces of the students and professors had done nothing to reconcile her own confused feelings. Instead, as the afternoon service had worn on, they merely reminded her that she had no idea who she was supposed to grieving for, if anyone. Pretending to mourn in the midst of so many people who were genuinely sorry for her supposed loss was getting to be more than she could handle. She was better off in the dungeons, keeping her mind and hands busy packing away the remnants of a life she hadn't been a part of. One, she was now sure, she couldn't have shared even if she'd given him the benefit of the doubt at every step.

The sound of a familiar voice calling her name stopped Lily as she reached for the door leading to the dungeons staircase, a few steps away from mental sanctuary. She turned and inclined her head towards the approaching woman. "Narcissa."

"Lily Snape."

"Evans," she quickly corrected. "Or Potter. I haven't decided yet."

Cool blue eyes drifted down to take in Lily's change of clothes before the women exchanged equally frosty smiles. Lily crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited.

"It was a beautiful service," Narcissa began. "A shame when one loses one's husband."

"For some women it is," Lily responded. The blonde frowned and a heavy wrinkle appeared in the center of her forehead. Lily resisted the urge to laughingly point out the flaw. Besides, if there were any flaws with Narcissa that should be pointed out, it was that the woman's blindness equaled, if not exceeded, her own. That is, if she had been in the dark at all. With her husband in Azkaban and her son a duplicate menace, Lily almost felt sorry for Narcissa Malfoy. Almost.

"Well, I understand if grief has made it difficult for you to maintain your perspective," she uttered in a cool, high voice.

"What perspective would that be?" Lily asked. "It's acceptable that my husband turned out to be a lying murderer because he loved me and he was working towards a good cause?"

Narcissa flinched as if she had been slapped.

"From your reaction, am I to believe you knew nothing of his plans?" Lily smiled and squeezed her right hand into a fist. Abruptly, she moved it behind her back before she could be tempted to put it to good use. "I never thought you an unintelligent woman, so I don't believe anything your husband and sister were planning together, occasionally in _your house_, escaped your notice. I suppose your perspective should include gratefulness that your husband was only willing to implicate himself in his confession or you and your beloved son would be in cells adjacent to dear Lucius."

"I have no idea where you're getting these ideas, Lily," Narcissa said. Her pointed nose rose in the air a bit as she defended herself. "I have done nothing to be ashamed of."

"Of course you would see it that way," Lily responded. "I assure you, doing nothing to stop him is nearly the same as committing the crime yourself." Narcissa's gaze moved and Lily's eyes followed; her children and Hermione had just left the Great Hall, heading to where Professor McGonagall, Sirius and the Minister were speaking at the far end of the Entrance Hall. A short time later, Draco Malfoy began stalking after them.

"I don't suppose your son is going to refrain from attacking mine in plain view of the Minister and Headmistress," Lily said. She turned in time to catch Narcissa's affronted gasp. Mrs. Malfoy immediately composed her features.

"I can see you're going to be impossible," she said.

"Impossible to manipulate as your husband does you or impossible to distract while you carry on the plans in his absence?" Lily leaned towards the pale blonde whose face had begun to flush in her anger. "Don't think I don't know what's in that self-absorbed mind of yours. I suggest you think over your options carefully." She turned and watched as Dumbledore approached Draco, a heavy frown creasing his face.

"I may not be in much of a position to defend what happened to my husband all those years ago, but I do not believe the Minister is in a forgiving mood when it comes to Death Eaters. Or their families."

"You may wish to pass on a message to your son." Lily turned back to study Narcissa. The pale blonde was nearly shaking in her anger, her lips pressed into a thin line as she listened. "If Draco so much as twitches his wand in my son's direction and I hear about it, the things I will do to him will make Voldemort's past seem like a pleasant dream." Leaning back, Lily smiled at the scowling blonde. "Thank you for conveying your condolences. My family and I appreciate your concern. Have a nice day, Narcissa." With that, she opened the door to the dungeons and walked down the stairs, her first genuine smile in days touching her lips.  


* * *

  
Harry caught up with Hermione and Raven just as they reached the doors of the Great Hall. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you were trying to leave me behind," he said. Hermione looked over her shoulder and gave him a tight smile. Her gaze moved over his shoulder briefly, and then she continued into the Entrance Hall, breezing past Lily and Narcissa Malfoy on her way to the front doors.

"I need to give this to Professor McGonagall," Harry said, holding up the robes. "And I want to talk to the Minister. It should only take a minute."

Hermione nodded and followed with Raven as Harry crossed the large hall quickly, interrupting the Minister as he spoke with Sirius and Professor McGonagall.

"Excuse me. Minister Dumbledore, I was wondering if I could have a word with you?" Harry asked. He fought the instinct to glare as the older wizard immediately looked at his two companions. If the plan had been to avoid his questions altogether, Harry was sure the man before him could handle it without backup. That is, if the look meant he was hiding something. After their past several conversations, Harry felt sure that could well be the case. It was just a matter of finding out what, and more importantly, why.

"I'm not sure if this is the best time, Harry," he said. Dumbledore smiled down at Raven as he continued. "Perhaps you can write to me at the Ministry and I can respond in a confidential manner."

Studying Dumbledore's expression, he handed Professor McGonagall the robes his mother had borrowed before saying, "I don't mind if everyone here knows what I want to ask you."

"Everyone?" Dumbledore asked.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Raven said, tugging at Hermione's hand. Abruptly, she let go of Hermione and stepped up to pull at her brother's arm. "Can you take me upstairs? I don't like the ones in the dungeons."

"There's one in the staff room you may use," Professor McGonagall offered. She gestured to the door behind her. "Would you like me to walk with you?"

Raven shook her head silently, eyes widening as she eyed the Headmistress.

"I'll walk you to the bathroom while your brother asks his question," Sirius offered. He held out his hand to Raven and she took it with a grateful smile. She skipped ahead of him as they entered the staff room.

"There," Harry said. "Now, can you tell me why the Daily Prophet published next to nothing about what happened? At least half the students think I'm a murderer because that article made it sound like what happened was something as small as a cauldron blowing up by accident. It's pretty clear to anyone with half a brain that something major is being covered up."

"Harry, I—"

Harry waved off his first attempt at diversion. "I know my mother doesn't want to know the details and we've agreed that my sister can never know, but you have to understand why keeping everything from the public looks suspicious," Harry said. "What was the reason behind it? You know what I went through before with Fudge lying to everyone about what was happening because he didn't want the public to know the Ministry might not be able to protect them. Tell me you're not going to do the same thing."

The Minister visibly bristled at what amounted to an ultimatum. He glanced at Professor McGonagall. She stood to his side with her arms crossed, pointedly ignoring his silent plea for assistance as she looked at Harry and Hermione.

"Harry, I am not, nor will I ever lie to the public about what is going on."

"But the article—"

"The article was the best we could do in a difficult situation." His eyes narrowed on Harry and the teenager felt himself respond with a matching glare. "You may be unaware of this, but Lucius Malfoy helped orchestrate the breakout of several prisoners from Azkaban late last week. Rather than call undo attention to what may well be a concerted effort of Death Eaters—"

"You've decided to let them roam free without suspicion instead of warn people they're out there supporting Voldemort?" Harry asked, interrupting.

Dumbledore took a deep breath, attempting to force a show of calm he didn't feel. "Rather than worry people unnecessarily, we have every Auror available searching homes connected to the organization among other measures. I did not wish for the public to know the events of last week were connected to Voldemort because, not only will parents needlessly worry about their children's safety here at Hogwarts, the knowledge that he almost returned may serve as a beacon to those who escaped punishment by claiming innocence years before rather than a warning to those who would protect themselves. At present, there is no major threat in the Wizarding world."

Harry paused to think over the Minister's statement. "That's ridiculous," he said flatly. "Nothing about that makes sense. The school is safe now and there are people who could—"

"Enough!" Dumbledore said, raising his voice just slightly above Harry's arguing. "I'm not debating the way the Ministry is handling this with you. I will come back later in the week so you and I may discuss your options and your unfortunately timed conversation with Mr. Longbottom." Abruptly, he turned away from Harry and looked across the hall. "I have other business to attend to."

Before Harry could argue with him again, the Minister walked away. "Can you believe that?" he asked Hermione. When she didn't respond, he snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Hermione?"

She blinked rapidly and her eyes focused on his face. "I'm sorry? I was thinking about something."

"Can you believe what he said to me?" Harry repeated. "That has got to be the biggest load of—"

"Mr. Potter, I caution you about openly questioning the Minister's decision about this," Professor McGonagall said. "I assure you, he can be most stubborn when he feels it's in everyone's best interest."

"That doesn't mean he's right," Harry said. "You know what I'm talking about. If it were up to him, you wouldn't have known everything that was happening the past few weeks. That can't be the best way to handle things with Death Eaters on the loose and Bellatrix Lestrange probably holed up somewhere conducting meetings or something."

"I doubt they've converged in a meeting hall to discuss a course of action," Professor McGonagall stated. "If she's thinking clearly, she would have left the country days ago to escape Ministry notice."

"She wouldn't have to," Harry said. "Her arrest didn't even make the paper, remember? Nobody would even know to report seeing her."

The Headmistress sighed. "Regardless, she is not an immediate threat, nor are any of the escaped prisoners. I am in frequent contact with the Auror Office and the school has a number of protections around it to keep your former professor and anyone else from getting inside."

"Exactly, so the school safety excuse is just that." Harry frowned and pinched the skin between his eyes. The headache had been coming on all day, but now it pulsed as strongly as the pain searing through his head when he'd dreamt the night before. "Speaking of protection," Harry began. He took a second to congratulate himself on speaking in a much gentler tone of voice than he'd thought himself capable at that moment. "What it be okay if I reformed the defense group I had before?"

"The DA?" The Headmistress asked in a surprised voice.

"Well, it wouldn't quite be the same thing," Harry said. "I think I would feel better if I got to work with Neville on some defensive techniques. I'm not sure how much he knows, really, but I saw a little of his spell work early last week and I don't think it could hurt if I tutored him a bit. That is, if you don't mind me doing the teaching."

She smiled. "After viewing a few of your memories, I'm sure you could teach me a couple of things." McGonagall nodded as she considered the idea. "I'll give it further thought. Of course, if I were to allow this, I would want you to be supervised by the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. If there was interest, would you mind some of the other students joining?"

Harry nodded. "No, that'd be fine, if they really want to learn. I'm just worried that Neville might not be able to defend himself if he absolutely has to," Harry said. "I know Hermione at least—" He turned and stopped speaking, just realizing she was no longer next to him. Looking across the hall, he saw Hermione speaking with Dumbledore just before the front doors. Her face was turning red as they continued what Harry could easily tell was an argument; she repeatedly jabbed a finger in Dumbledore's direction before crossing her arms over her chest, tapping her foot rapidly as she listened to his response.

"I know Hermione would be interested in brushing up on her defense outside of class," Harry said, turning back to Professor McGonagall. "She said practicing in class with Snape always made her nervous and she never really got the hang of it. I was thinking we could start with basic disarming and shield spells—"

"Hold on, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall interrupted. "I haven't given my approval yet."

Harry smiled as the Headmistress looked at him over the top of her glasses. "But you like the idea? That's enough for me." His smile widened as his sister and godfather came out of the staff room. "There you are!" Harry said. "I was starting to miss you."

"We got lost!" Raven said. She grinned at Sirius as she moved to take her brother's hand. "Well, he got lost. I knew exactly how to get us out of there."

Sirius shrugged. "What can I say? I was too busy checking out those magazines left in the bathroom to pay attention to where I was going."

Professor McGonagall gasped and her face flushed. "The magazines?"

Sirius grinned and patted the pocket of his black robes. "Don't worry. I'll remove them from the school for safekeeping. Wouldn't want a professor to misplace these and let student to get a hold of them."

"No, we would not," she agreed. "Though I doubt there's much chance of a problem with that since most of them have their own stashes," she muttered. Seeming to remember she was speaking in front of children, McGonagall straightened her expression. "We'll speak tomorrow, Mr. Potter."

"Ready to go?" Hermione asked. She slipped her hand into Harry's and smiled, no trace of her recently finished argument in her face or demeanor. "I think Raven said something about going to see the Giant Squid before it gets too dark."

Harry nodded, biting back the increasing number of questions he had for her. There'd be time to get them all answered.  


* * *

  
If he hadn't spent the day surrounded by people who could protect him, Draco knew Potter would've given him the answers he needed to hear before now. If it wasn't the Headmistress coddling him in the Great Hall, it was that clingy girlfriend of his watching every movement around him as if she'd hex anyone who made a wrong step. No doubt she would, and she'd get away with it too. Not that Potter needed the protection, if the rumors were true—Draco didn't doubt they were. Harry had hated his stepfather behind closed doors for years; even Draco had known it would only be a matter of time before he acted on his true feelings. Snape had given him the perfect excuse.

Now, it would only be a matter of time before _he_ showed Potter his true feelings about his father's arrest. _I don't need an excuse to end the games_, Draco thought as he followed the three children from the Great Hall. _Just the opportunity for richly deserved payback._

Ignoring Lily Snape's sidelong look as she spoke with his mother, Draco stalked forward, intent on having a few words with the lying prat before he could slip away again. When he thought of how Aunt Bella had tried to warn him before, of how she'd skirted around the truth of the betrayal as easily as she'd escaped the Ministry earlier that day, Draco felt a new surge of anger course through his veins.

Of course, he should've seen it coming. Potter had given Draco a half-assed warning that he might implicate his father in some way, but to think that he _dared_ have Lucius Malfoy arrested over some stupid feud with his stepfather? If the Headmistress and Minister of Magic hadn't been giving Draco appraising looks at that moment, Draco knew for sure he would've shown Potter how he felt about his understanding if he no longer wished to be involved in the sordid plot.

_It's fine, my ass_, Draco thought, remembering Harry's words from a little more than a week earlier. _He probably had this in place for months and would've left my father alone if I'd cooperated. Did I actually offer to help that thankless prick?_ If Draco had known Potter had it in him to blackmail with people's lives, he might have had a little respect left for him. That is, if his family hadn't been the target. The truth was, the events of the past few days had left the Slytherin with a bad taste in his mouth. One that could only be cleared by spitting on the cold body of the one responsible. And he would, the first chance he had.

A few more seconds of waiting for Potter to get away from his bodyguards passed before Draco saw the Minister and former Headmaster headed towards him from the far end of the hall, a deepening scowl on his face. Dumbledore stopped just before the teen, blocking his view of Potter and the others at the end of the hall. Draco looked into the cool blue eyes and knew what the old man was going to say before he'd even begun his little speech.

"Harry Potter is not responsible for your father's arrest. So, you can get every thought you have of hurting him out of your head right now," Dumbledore said.

Or, at least he thought he'd known.

"That's a lie."

"I don't care if you believe me or not, Mr. Malfoy. There are almost a dozen people who can attest to the fact that Harry was unconscious from Saturday until late yesterday and hadn't the first clue what happened to your father." Draco's eyes narrowed as he took in the quickly whispered story, probably cooked up as the older wizard had walked over. "No one would blame him if he decided to press charges. Harry was hospitalized for the second time in as many weeks because your father and Professor Snape tried to kill him."

As those words sunk in, Draco took a quick step backwards, shaking his head as he prepared to refute the Minister's claim.

"As I said, you are not to go after him in any way. I am the only one you need to approach about this matter," Dumbledore said. "I am the only one who can do anything to change his circumstances."

"It sounds like you've already got your mind made up what you're going to do," Draco said, his mind whirling. If this was the Minister's story, what could he do to publicly refute it? Discredit the Minister or Potter somehow? How would his father handle it if he was on trial and this was the charge against him?

"That depends on you, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said. He placed a firm hand on Draco's shoulder and the boy winced as the long fingers gripped his shoulder. "You and I and a select number of people are the only ones who know what you did Saturday. You may not be charged yet, but make no mistake, your chances of escaping punishment for your actions are as spare as your chances of getting away with any retaliation you are debating. I will not let either pass without my own brand of justice meted out in response."

He released Draco and stood straight, his face stern. "You have a choice to make, Mr. Malfoy. Family loyalty or your and your father's freedom. I will be back in a few days to hear your decision." Dumbledore opened one of the front doors and began to step out, stopped when Hermione put a hand on his arm.

"May I speak with you?" she asked. She glanced over her shoulder to Harry.

The Minister nodded and Draco took this as his cue to leave, ducking through the open door before the Minister could stop him. He'd only moved a few steps when a hand clamped on his shoulder and he turned abruptly, mentally preparing to hex the Minister. He relaxed when he saw it was only his mother.

"You know what you need to do," she said without preamble.

He smiled, a bitter baring of his teeth that betrayed only a fraction of the anger he was feeling. "What does she need?" Draco asked.

"Information." Narcissa Malfoy pulled a black book from the pocket of her robes and thrust it into her son's hands. The book promptly disappeared into her son's pocket. "Anything you can find out about Longbottom, Potter, the Ministry's plans, the search for your aunt. You'll have to befriend him again," she added, echoing her sister's order from days before.

Gray eyes widened in disbelief. "After what he's done?" Draco cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "If we were alone right now, I'd—"

"You will not harm him until we can be sure Bella has what she needs," Narcissa said, cutting him off. "Then you may do whatever you please. Provided you don't get caught."

Draco said nothing. He knew better than his mother what needed to be done about Potter and he would accomplish his tasks in his own time. Befriending the traitor would be an adequate first step for some of what he had in mind. He'd work out the rest of the details later, once he had time to think.

"What do I need to do with the book?" he asked.

"Bella will be able to read anything you write in it and you whatever she writes," his mother responded. "She wants you to record every bit of information you can find, even what you feel is trivial, and she will give you further instructions when necessary."

The front doors opened and both Malfoys turned towards them, bearing identical frowns as the Minister walked away from the school. Draco watched Dumbledore for a few moments before turning back to his mother.

"Where is Aunt Bella?"

Narcissa blinked, startled by the question. "She's somewhere safe."

_You don't know_, Draco thought. "Very well. I'll do everything she asks."

His mother nodded and bent towards him for a brief, stiff hug before taking the same path the Minister had taken to the front gate. Draco waited until he thought he could hear the sound of his mother Apparating away in the distance before turning to go for a stroll around the grounds. He had a lot of thinking to do and being around his housemates would only be a distraction. He might involve a few of them in his plans later, but after what Potter had done, he knew this plan had to be a special one all his own.  


* * *

  
Neville had anticipated a big reaction, but this wasn't quite what he'd expected. Ron was pacing back in front through the center of their dorm room, cursing under his breath every few turns and mumbling incoherently the rest of the time. Twice, he'd stopped and stood still, seeming to have everything clear in his mind before continuing the manic pacing. Finally, he stopped and turned to face Neville, a frown on his normally complacent features.

"Do you believe him? Because I think he's completely out of his mind." Before Neville could respond, he began pacing again.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Neville said as he watched the other boy move. "As far as the prophecy goes, anyway. You really had to see that thing with the globe this morning to understand. As far as everything else, why wouldn't it be true?"

"Why?" Ron asked. He stopped again and glanced in the direction of Harry's bed. "That he time traveled and everything else? I can't imagine how it could be."

Neville shrugged and shook his head. If anyone had the answers, it wasn't _this_ Boy Who Lived. Being thrust into this situation was bad enough without someone expecting him to make sense of it as well. "Dumbledore confirmed everything he told me. Besides, Harry doesn't have a reason to make anything up. If he'd only been lying to get at his stepfather somehow, that was over days ago. He could go back to acting normal now."

"That doesn't mean he isn't still nuts."

Neville gave Ron a wry smile. "That's about what he said this morning." When Ron looked at him in question, he added, "Even if all of this has driven him a little crazy, that doesn't mean it's not true. By the way, you can't tell anyone any of this. About the scars, none of it."

"Why would I?" Ron asked. "So they can think I'm just as crazy as he is? No thanks." Ron stopped in the middle of his pacing and turned to stare at Neville.

"What?"

"You remember when Trelawney was acting nuttier than usual first day of term?"

"When she predicted I would be in grave danger again?" Neville asked, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but after that, she said the oddest things to Harry. Something about being snatched from the jaws of fate and…"

"A deadly illness and the one of which we do not speak marking him for death," Neville said in an unconscious imitation of the Divination teacher's ominous voice. Neville began nodding as Ron's face went pale. "I'd forgotten all about that. Even Trelawney knew all of this stuff was true."

"I'd always thought that woman was a crackpot," Ron said in a soft voice. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I never thought she could make a real prediction or know anything useful. Nothing like _this_," he said.

Neville nodded, lost in thought. If everything she'd said to Harry the first day of class was true, then he was being targeted for death. And if that were true, maybe he would have to start listening to the woman's assertions that his own future was uncertain. He rubbed at the scar on the side of his face absently as he considered the possibilities. He'd never wanted to prove Trelawney wrong more than he did now.  


* * *

  
Exhausted, Hermione slowly let Raven down from her hip and guided the girl towards the door with a gently nudge to her shoulder. "I swear, that's the last time I agree to carry her anywhere," she said, grinning at Harry.

He nodded, glad he hadn't volunteered for the position. "Are you ready to go back to Sirius's house?" he asked his sister.

She shook her head as he'd known she would. "I want to stay with both of you," Raven responded. Hermione grinned when she realized she'd been included. "I can't believe by the time I'm old enough to come to school, you'll be too old to stay."

"I could always fall behind in my grades," Harry teased.

"Don't you dare!" Raven exclaimed, suddenly looking a lot like Lily. "Mum'll put you one of her punishments and you know how awful those are," she said, pouting as she remembered a previous time of suffering.

"I'll keep my grades up, then," Harry said, pushing the door to the dungeon quarters open. "But I promise to come and visit you as often as I can."

"You too?" she asked, turning to Hermione.

"I'll come too," Hermione responded, smiling at Harry's sister.

They walked into the front room of what had been Snape's living quarters and looked around. True to her promise, Lily had gotten every bookshelf emptied, every picture removed and every trace that anyone had ever lived there stripped, folded or otherwise disposed of into the boxes she'd conjured earlier. Though, all Harry saw now was one lone box sitting next to the fireplace.

Lily came from the back room at the sound of her daughter's call, a small smile on her face for the little girl. She pulled Raven into her arms and picked her up for a quick kiss on the cheek. "Did you have a fun time?" Raven nodded. "Fantastic," Lily said. "Say goodbye to your brother and Hermione and Sirius will take you back while I finish up."

As Harry hugged his sister goodbye, he felt a deep longing to walk into the Floo with them, leaving behind all of the drama and heartache he knew would eventually come if he stayed at the place that so far had only served to bring him closer to his death. He glanced at Hermione as he stood up. No, Hogwarts had not just brought him closer to the negative things he'd experienced, but he didn't know how much more he could take before he permanently became the resigned, angry person he'd been less than a week before. Besides, his troubles would follow him whether he stayed at school or not. If Dumbledore wasn't going to warn people or go after Death Eaters in the light of day, wouldn't that make it marginally easier for them to continue on with Snape's plan? Harry shook his head to clear the thought from his mind. He'd think about that later. Much later, if he could help it.

Before Harry was aware of it, Sirius had come and taken Raven and the final box—which Harry had learned contained all of Snape's belongings in their own boxes, shrunk into a manageable size and lightened—back to his house and he and his mother and Hermione were left, an awkward silence settling over them. He glanced back and forth between the two women in his life, wondering for the umpteenth time that day what had happened in that very room to cause such tension between them. There was only one way for him to find out. It had long been apparent to Harry, it wasn't going to be through Hermione.

"Hermione, would you mind if I speak to my mother alone?" Harry asked. "I'll join you upstairs for dinner when we're through."

"I—" She glanced back and forth between the identical pairs of green eyes. "No, I don't mind," she said quietly. Hermione walked to the door and paused at the doorway, taking a deep breath before she turned back, a stiff smile on her face. "Goodnight, Mrs.—"

"Goodnight, Hermione," Lily said, cutting her off with her own brief dismissal and tight smile.

Hermione frowned and walked out then, slamming the door behind her as she left.

Harry turned on his mother the minute the door was closed. "What was that about?"

"What do you mean?" Lily asked. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and smiled at her son.

"I mean, Hermione has been upset all day and I think it has something to do with you."

"I don't like your tone, Harry," Lily said. "If she's been upset today, perhaps it's because today's business has been unpleasant. None of us has felt a lot like smiling."

"You managed to do a lot of it today," Harry retorted before he could stop himself. His gut lurched when his mother's face fell.

"Do you think this is easy for me?" she asked. "I had to pretend to grieve him because so many people were watching. I couldn't even say what I was really thinking. I couldn't tell those people I'd gladly spit on his grave because they'd make me out to be some kind of monster."

"You're not a monster and no one in their right mind would ever think that."

"No? If I didn't cry and pretend to be the grieving widow, monster is the nicest thing they'd say within earshot."

Harry sighed. They were off track. This was not what he'd wanted to ask her about at all. It was hardly a competition for who had been having the worst of it lately. No doubt, Lily would've taken the prize if it was, though she might not have Harry beat in the long run, he was sure. He watched as she shuffled her feet in place and glanced at her watch as she waited for him to continue the conversation he'd negotiated alone time for.

"Tell me what you and Hermione talked about."

"She didn't tell you?"

Harry stared at his mother, wondering why she was stalling. Had she said something to offend Hermione?

"It's my fault, really," Lily said. Her expression turned sheepish and she began studying the pattern the toe of her shoe was making as she dragged it across the stone floor. "I started to tell her how concerned I am about how the two of you are getting along and I guess I must have phrased it the wrong way because she got upset. I honestly thought she'd be over it before now." Lily sighed and raised her eyes to look at her son. "Ever since I found out the truth, I can't stop worrying about you. All this time, I should've been protecting you from…from the real monster and I didn't even see a fraction of what he was capable of."

She walked closer to her son and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. "I see so much of your father in you and it scares me to think you could reach your end anything like the way he did. If anything ever happened to you or your sister—"

"Nothing will happen," Harry said.

"We both know you can't promise that," Lily responded swiftly. "Your life especially is so unpredictable right now, so I…I might have gotten a little carried away with my new, overprotective stance. But I don't regret it. I want you to have the best of everything and that includes the people in your life. Hermione knows I'm only looking out for you the best way I can. And if that means asking your girlfriend about things she's uncomfortable with, then I will."

The last sentence made Harry stare at her for a moment. "What did you ask her?"

"I just…I wanted to make sure the two of you are still making smart decisions," Lily responded.

_Ah_, Harry thought. _She asked about sex. Wonderful. Just when I'd decided—_

"Hermione is a wonderful girl and I just want the two of you to enjoy being children as long as you can." Lily relaxed her hands from her son's shoulders and raised one to ruffle his hair. "You weren't here for the talk we had before summer started, but I want to tell you the same thing I said before. I want you to be completely sure of your feelings and the person you're sharing them with before you act. It's for your protection as well as hers." Lily smiled. "Don't do anything you may end up regretting, even if the physical part of it appeals more than waiting. There are a lot of things I'm not ready for and one of them is being a grandmother."

"Okay, you don't have to worry about finishing the talk," Harry said. He was sure his blush must be reaching to the roots of his hair the way his mother suddenly laughed.

"Good," Lily said. "Just, please be careful. I love you and I can't stand to see anything happen to you, whether it's heartbreak or anything else."

Harry nodded and held still as his mother kissed him on the forehead. A couple of goodbyes later, Lily had taken the Floo back to Sirius's house and Harry was walking up the stairs from the dungeons to the Entrance Hall, mind buzzing with thoughts of how that talk could have scared Hermione into being so distant with him the entire day. Even when she'd begun smiling and laughing after the funeral, he'd sensed something behind her eyes and smile that even a good Cheering Charm couldn't disguise. If his first night back at Hogwarts was any indication, it was really his fault. He knew how to fix it, at least in theory. He would have to figure out a way to convince her he was sure of his feelings, even if he was still too tongue-tied around her to say it in so many words. She deserved that much at least.

Harry smiled when he found Hermione waiting for him in the Entrance Hall. He kissed her on the cheek in greeting.

"You ready for dinner?" she asked.

"No," Harry responded, just realizing he had no appetite. "I'm not really in the mood for it, especially after the scene this morning. I think I'll just turn in early."

Hermione frowned. "Okay," she said quietly. She crossed her arms and studied his face for a few moments. "Did you want me to ask Madam Pomfrey to get you something to help you sleep?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll be fine. I'll see you in the morning." He kissed her cheek again and then turned to dash up the stairs, just missing the tears forming in Hermione's eyes as she watched him practically run from her.


	4. Prioritizing

Harry was unaware of anything but the beat of his own heart against his chest and the overwhelming pull of something greater than himself from outside his body to his core. There was a pull, but no awareness of movement. An inexplicable draw, but no apparent cause. There was an unnamed force in the room with him and it was all he could do not to scream out from the urge to split open and bring it inside himself.

He was trapped. Trapped in this body. Trapped in the room. Trapped in the certainty that whatever happened, if he did not escape soon, or give in to this strange feeling, some form of him would die in this state.

Slowly, awareness came, and with it the further certainty that he would die. He was on the floor of the dungeon office, looking up at the boy who would be his demise. Harry fought against that thought as he saw himself across the room, wand pointed straight out, shouting a spell that sent out a shaft of light, temporarily blinding himself on the floor and igniting the bright flames.

When he felt it begin, he began wishing frantically for the quick relief of death. He bucked in place, cries flying from his throat as the skin melted from his muscles. "No, this isn't the end! You can hurt me, but I won't die here," he shouted. The fire spread deeper and Harry twisted in place, struggling to avoid its painful kiss across his body.

Several hard slaps across his face woke him from the dream. Harry awoke to the dark of his dorm room, broken only by thin streams of moonlight coming through the curtains. He looked around to see the worried faces of his roommates, all staring at him as he sat on the floor. Harry blinked and flinched away from the sudden burst of light when Neville lit the fire.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, bending over him. "I wasn't sure what to do."

"I…no, I'm fine," Harry said. He realized he was shaking and put his arms around himself. "I'm sorry I woke everyone," he said a bit louder. He started to stand and sat down hard again when his legs wouldn't support him.

"We can get someone for you," Neville said.

"No," Harry said. "Everyone go back to sleep. I'll be fine." Several other boys had come out of their rooms and crowded the doorway. He groaned softly and closed his eyes. He'd had enough attention lately. The last thing he needed was more fodder for the "crazy" rumors. Harry opened his eyes when he felt Hermione's presence at his side, her trembling fingers going over his face.

"What happened?" Harry blurted the truth before he could think to stop himself.

"I was inside it," Harry whispered. His hands jerked over his arms as if he could feel the fire beginning to eat away at him again. "He was k-killing me." He shook his head quickly and tried to focus his thoughts. "He'd set me on fire and—" Harry stopped, realizing he had begun speaking loud enough for his roommates and whoever was in the doorway to hear. He looked up. Fred and George Weasley were mouthing something at their brother and nodding in his direction. They disappeared from the doorway to be replaced by several other boys.

"I can't…I don't want to talk about it," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "This seems worse than last night."

"No, I can't." He looked around at the room. With the exception of Seamus, his roommates were watching him in open sympathy. He didn't need their pity, he needed a way out of the death sentence Voldemort had given him. He closed his eyes and Hermione put her arms around him.

"Don't worry about them," she whispered.

"Harry, are you all right?"

His eyes shot open and he felt himself relax minutely at the sight of Remus Lupin coming across the room. "Professor Lupin? When did you get here?"

"A few hours ago," he said, surprise registering on his face. "I hadn't realized you'd know who I am. You weren't at dinner when the announcement was made."

"I…I've seen photos," Harry said, figuring explaining the truth would be too much.

"Professor McGonagall told me you might be having a hard time," Remus said. He kneeled on Harry's other side. "Do you want to talk about it?" Harry shook his head. "Do you want a potion to help you sleep?" He shook his head again.

"Come on, Harry. Take something," Hermione pleaded. She lowered her voice. "No one will think you're weak if you need something to help you sleep. Do this for yourself. You need your rest."

"No, I can't take anything," he protested. "I don't need it. Besides, I have to get up for class in a few hours."

"You're not going to class," Remus said firmly. "I'll tell Professor McGonagall and your other professors in the morning. You won't be able to focus on spell work if you don't get any sleep. Besides that, none of us will have you in class when you're not well."

"I'm fine," Harry said again, knowing that word was nowhere close to what he felt. He pushed himself up. This time his legs supported him and he backed up, sliding up onto his bed. "It was nothing." Before Hermione could interrupt again, he added, "I'll be able to go to sleep without any help." He reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. Their eyes met and he felt a small pang at the worry in hers. "Thank you," he whispered. He looked into Hermione's eyes for a few seconds before releasing her hand.

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure," Harry said. "Go back to bed."

With one last worried glance in his direction, Hermione finally seemed to assure herself that Harry would be all right and disappeared through the crowded doorway. Within minutes, the rest of the boys had settled back into their rooms, the fire was put out and Harry lay back behind the curtains of his own bed, frantic thoughts of how Voldemort had wanted to _merge_ with him in his dream keeping his eyes open until the sun began to fill the room with light.  


* * *

  
It was just after sunrise when Harry finally dropped into a fitful sleep. It seemed like only minutes later, Hermione was pushing at his shoulder, whispering in his ear until he reached up to grasp her by both shoulders and tumbled her onto the bed with him. He didn't open his eyes completely until he'd blindly groped the curtains around the bed closed.

His vision was blurry, but Harry could make out the small smile she held in the semi-darkness as she looked up at him. He shifted on the bed until they were laying side-by-side, Hermione on her back, Harry leaning up on his elbows and wearing his own smile as he looked down at her.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she said back. He bent to kiss her and she hummed in pleasure, briefly running her fingers through his hair.

When Harry leaned back again, he stared at Hermione for a long moment, trying to remember when he'd felt so content just being next to someone. If what she really needed was to know he felt that and more, Harry supposed he could force himself to try to tell her what he was thinking. Pushing past his nerves would be a lot easier than having to see that sad look in her eyes when he knew she was wishing he felt the same way.

He lowered himself until he was level with her on the bed and slipped an arm over her waist, pulling her close to his side. His lips moved to her neck and he smiled against her skin as she wiggled to pull away from his grasp. "This is my favorite way to wake up. You know what I want right now?"

Hermione giggled and Harry felt a corresponding warmth spread through his chest at the sound. "I can guess, but what you're going to get is breakfast in the common room."

Harry squeezed her tight and planted a sound kiss on her lips. She held his head in place and kissed him back slowly before releasing him and pushing him back by both shoulders. "Tease," Harry said before releasing her. "I'll be down in a few."

Still smiling, Hermione wiggled her way from the bed and left Harry to his thoughts—not only the remaining faint whispers of Voldemort and Horcruxes, but a million and one plans for how he was going to convince the girl he was crazy about her.  


* * *

  
When he came into the common room a few minutes later, Hermione was curled up on one corner of a sofa in front of the fireplace with a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ opened in front of her. A nearby table held a tray with a glass of pumpkin juice and a plate covered by a silver dome. She looked up as Harry walked closer, smiling as he reached for the juice before he sat down.

"Didn't feel like brushing your hair?"

Harry swallowed the juice in two large gulps before lowering the glass back to the table. "I brushed my hair," he said defensively. "Not my fault it never wants to cooperate. I'm sure I look exactly the way I feel this morning." He motioned to the newspaper. "Anything interesting?"

Hermione shook her head. "I've read it cover to cover. There's nothing that looks like it might be Death Eater activity. Mostly the normal news."

"Mostly?"

Offering a small smile, Hermione closed the paper and reluctantly showed Harry the front cover. He tried not to wince as he took in the main headline. Beneath the headline "The Heart of Grief" was a large photo of Harry's family. Taken during the funeral, Raven was sitting on his lap while he wiped her tears. Lily was pulling them both close to her—one hand holding Raven's—and leaning over to kiss Harry's forehead. If he hadn't been a part of the charade, he would've thought it a very believable depiction of a family suffering a devastating loss. At least Raven wasn't playing to the cameras or an audience.

"Do I want to read the article?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "There's no point, really. At least half a page of it was a rehash of your eulogy." Harry nodded, remembering the sappy string of lies he'd spoken at his sister's urging. "Your mum laid it on pretty thick with that reporter and he printed every word. The article goes on to pages three and four. I don't know how she came up with all of it."

"Speaking of my mum, I talked to her about you last night."

Hermione nodded, pulling the paper closer and folding it in half. "I figured as much. I don't want to talk about what she said to me." She paused. "Unless what she said made you change your mind about us, then…I don't know," she whispered.

"Why would she make me change my mind about you?" Harry asked. Hermione's eyes lifted from the newspaper and swept back and forth over Harry's face. "She told me she thinks you're wonderful."

"She did?" Shock brought a small smile to her face.

Harry grinned. "Don't sound so surprised. She just wants us to be careful that we know what we're getting into."

"That you know what you're getting into," she responded, her smile dropping.

"Well, yeah. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Hermione glanced past him. "You should get to your breakfast. I'm going to grab a book. I know I'm falling behind in Arithmancy and I don't want to be lost in class tomorrow." She stood from the sofa and moved towards the stairs.

"You didn't have to miss class for me again," Harry said.

"Of course I did," Hermione responded. She turned to him and, for the first time since the night before, he saw the fear and concern she'd been harboring for him returned full force. "I won't let you deal with something like this by yourself," she said. "I know you didn't want to get into it last night, but if you want to tell me about the dream later, I'll be here."

Harry nodded and watched as Hermione ran up the stairs to get her school books.  


* * *

  
When Harry yawned for the third time in as many minutes, Hermione closed her book and sighed in exasperation. "Tell the truth, how much sleep did you get last night?"

"You mean this morning," he said automatically. Harry scratched his head and squinted in the direction of the window. The early afternoon sunlight was streaming through the window, just reaching the end of the sofa where they'd spent most of the day talking and avoiding eye contact with the few students who'd popped in between classes. No one had thrown a hex in his direction, Harry was happy to note. Maybe there was some use to that bullshit article in the _Prophet_. "I think I got in a couple of hours before I woke up and almost nothing after the nightmare."

"Was it because of the dream or was something else bothering you?" Hermione asked.

Something in her voice was off. He couldn't say how exactly, but he could tell all the same. Harry glanced at Hermione, but her face was blank. "I assume it was just because of the dream," he said. "The whole situation, really. I didn't get any sleep when I skipped dinner last night either. Not until after everyone else had gone to bed."

"Too much to think about?" Hermione asked. She'd attempted to ask the question in an off-hand manner but, again, something about the way she'd spoken set off alarm bells in Harry's head.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. As she began to shake her head, he added, "I can tell something's bothering you. Just tell me what it is."

"I'm worried about you," she said softly. Hermione moved closer to him on the sofa and touched a hand to the side of his face. "You can't keep going on like this. I'm bringing you something to take tonight."

"How long can I survive taking something to help me sleep?"

"As long as you need to," she responded.

"What if I'd rather get sleep without having to force it? I could become dependant or something."

Hermione smiled. "You know these potions are safe. I'll say it again, it doesn't make you weak if you have to take something. You've been through hell. Anyone would be having trouble dealing with it."

"I've dealt with the nightmares before, Hermione. It's nothing I can't handle for a while again if I have to."

"You don't have to," she responded. "You need to be rested and relaxed or you won't be able to focus on anything. Why don't we try something?" She moved closer on the sofa and kneeled next to Harry, placing her fingers on his temples. "This worked when you were trying to extract your memories the first time, maybe it'll help you relax enough to sleep."

"Even if it works this time, I can't have you with me in bed every night," Harry said.

"Well…" She bit back a comment and smiled instead. "Just close your eyes and relax." Hermione began moving her fingers in gentle circles over his temples. "Think of something that makes you feel good and focus only on that."

Harry closed his eyes. He didn't know if it was her proximity, coupled with the fact that he could smell her peach-scented conditioner, but the first picture to enter his head was Hermione standing naked in the Prefects' bathroom. She'd been blushing as he'd eyed her body openly. Then she'd slid into the water and teased and tempted him until he could barely control himself. He thought of how it had felt to touch her and felt his body begin to respond. Harry had felt like an idiot not to take her up on her offer then, but he'd needed her assurance that he wasn't just a warm body with the right face.

Now, he supposed she needed his assurance that she meant as much to him as he did to her. Hermione had told him repeatedly that he didn't have to be in love with her for their relationship to work, but even if she'd never admit it, Harry knew the last thing she wanted was to give herself to someone who didn't truly care for her as more than a friend. Or even the unnamed, intermediate state she thought his feelings were in. As his mind and body relaxed under her touch, Harry acknowledged she wouldn't have to wait much longer for the affirmation she needed. As soon as he could admit to himself just how far in the past his feelings had truly changed.  


* * *

  
Feeling better than he had in days, Harry awoke on the sofa and stretched in place, slowing his movements when he realized Hermione was asleep, curled up against his side. Looking at the window nearest the fireplace, he noticed the sun had moved farther to the west. The rest of the students were probably in their last class of the day. He was glad now that he hadn't made himself suffer through classes. This final day off was exactly what he'd needed.

Harry turned back to regard Hermione. Her expression brought a smile to his face. She seemed content then, her lips puckered just so, he almost hated to wake her. Leaning forward, he placed his lips tentatively to hers, smiling against them when she woke and responded. Sighing, he leaned forward into the kiss, pressing her back into the sofa as he joined their mouths in a leisurely coupling of lips and tongue.

Within minutes, they were both panting as Harry pressed her body into the yielding material beneath them. Hermione sighed as his mouth drifted to her ear and then her neck, teasing her skin with soft kisses. Her heart beat a swift tattoo against her chest, strong enough that Harry could feel it as they kissed. He felt the corresponding rhythm in his as they melded together; every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation.

"Harry, you feel so good," she whispered. His hips shifted and she moaned, feeling the hard press of his muscles against her legs as her skirt bunched around her waist. He responded to her statement by rejoining their lips and sliding his hand along the outside of her thigh.

"I've found a much better way to occupy myself than sleeping today," he whispered against her lips. His mouth moved to her neck again and he nipped at her soft skin. "I don't know what you've done to me, Hermione, but I can't fight it anymore." Instantly, she stiffened beneath him. Harry nearly growled as Hermione's hand connected with his shoulder and she pushed him away. She slid back from him into a sitting position a foot away on the sofa.

"Something wrong?"

"No," she said. She looked away from him quickly and turned towards the fireplace, straightening her skirt. "I didn't realize you'd feel up to doing anything after not getting much sleep last night. You looked like you'd been through hell this morning."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I felt like crap. Sleeping next to you helped quite a lot." He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. She jerked away from his touch and then moved further into the corner of the sofa. "Are you sure you're all right? I thought…" He stopped, letting his confused thoughts go unspoken.

Hermione shrugged one shoulder and looked at him from the corner of her eye. "I don't feel quite right myself today, actually."

She turned to him fully then and Harry read the worry and sadness in her eyes. The shock of Hermione's mood change hit him like a bucket of cold water. His heart began thudding at triple speed, though from a very different reason than it had before. Had he put that shattered look there? Harry frowned as she rubbed her forearms before settling her hands in her lap.

"You do know why I want to be with you, right?" Hermione asked.

"You love me," he said obediently.

"Well, yes. But, do you know why?" She lifted one hand from her lap half-heartedly before letting it fall back down. "You know it's not because of your money or…or…or because I just want to save you or something, right?"

Harry paused, unsure of where this was coming from. "I know you've cared about me for a long time, since before the money—or what's happened the past few weeks."

"Right," she responded absently. "And you know the idea of us being together isn't just so I can hold on to you?" She turned to him. "It's because I love you and I want us to share something special. I want us to have something we'll never have with anyone else."

Harry nodded, watching her sudden agitated expression with some concern as she stared at a space in the distance. He waited for her to ask him about his feelings like she had before. "What are you getting at?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

Hermione jerked at the sound of his voice as if she'd forgotten he was there. "Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you know how I feel." She stood from the sofa suddenly, grabbed her book and began walking towards the stairs. "I have a headache. I don't think I'm going to come down for dinner. I left the potion next to your bed," she said over her shoulder. Without another word or glance back, Hermione ran up the stairs and into the girls' dorm.

Confusion at an all-time high, Harry leaned back into the sofa and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't know what had gotten into her, but he knew just thinking about how she'd run away from him would haunt him until he found the reason behind it. Suddenly, his own appetite joined his ability to sleep—lost to a nightmare he didn't begin to understand.  


* * *

  
The door to the dorm room slammed closed and Harry jumped up into a sitting position on his bed, startled out of a state of half-sleep. Peering around the curtains, he saw Ron and Neville crossing the room to their beds, the former giving him a cautious look as he walked to his section of the room. Harry nodded in Ron's direction and then directed another towards Neville.

"I've told him everything," Neville said by way of greeting.

Harry nodded. "I thought you'd have to tell someone."

"Told you he wouldn't care if I said something to you," Neville said to Ron.

Ron sat on his bed and looked at Harry, searching his face. Harry tried not to roll his eyes at the scrutiny. He was staring as if they hadn't met before, though they'd been around each other for weeks. Of all people, Ron was the last person he would have expected that from. "I'm not sure I believe you," Ron said finally.

Harry shrugged. Not only was he long past the urge to try to convince yet another person he was telling the truth, he had another issue on his mind that was a bit more pressing. "Believe it or don't," Harry said. "Things are going to fall a certain way regardless."

"So what about all of that stuff Professor Trelawney said to you the other week?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows with her? She was right about the illness, at least. And about me being marked for death." He sighed and pushed off the bed, strolling slowly across the room. "I don't want to think about any of that crap right now. I've got enough on my mind without thinking about Voldemort." Harry decided to ignore the hissing sound Ron made when he said the name. If he was going to be any help to Neville or himself—if Ron intended to help at all—there were some things he had to get used to.

"Is something wrong?" Neville asked.

Harry glanced towards the door. "Where are Dean and Seamus?"

"They're staying downstairs until they think you've gone to sleep," Neville said. "You having problems with one of them?"

"No, it's not that. I just don't think they'd have any sympathy for me right now, especially Seamus," Harry said. He sighed and looked down at his feet. "The problem is Hermione. Well, she's not really a problem. The problem is me. Or us." He shook his head in frustration. "Girls have a way of screwing up your head even Voldemort couldn't pull off."

Neville laughed. "You're kidding me. You've all this on your plate and she's giving you the most problems?"

"No," Harry said. "She's just…she's been acting so strange lately. I think I know what the problem is. She keeps telling me she loves me and then just sits there waiting for me to fill in the silence. Of course, then she pretends like it doesn't bother her that I haven't said it back." Harry ignored what sounded suspiciously like "you idiot" coming from Ron's general direction.

Neville waved Harry to come closer. Ron followed, sitting next to Neville on the bed. "Have you told her how you feel?" Neville asked.

"Sort of. It's kind of hard to get the words out," Harry said.

"That's the problem," Neville said. "Girls like to hear these things."

"You're the expert, then?"

Neville grinned. "No, but Lavender's certainly told me a lot I might not have guessed on my own. I suppose she doesn't have Hermione's patience, waiting for you to figure it out. You have to tell her or she'll spend hours alone, or with her friends, trying to analyze every word you say and everything you do. Then she'll drive you nuts trying to see if her theories fit."

"He's right," Ron put in.

"Right," Harry said. "So you've told Parvati how you feel?"

"I—what?" Ron paled as he leaned back and his ears quickly turned the color of ripe strawberries. His face started to follow suit. "No, I haven't said anything to her."

"But you've known she likes you for about a week now, right?" Harry asked.

"He's known longer than that," Neville said, laughing. "Been in denial."

"Can you blame me?" Ron asked. "Look at her and look at—" He motioned towards himself and gave the other two boys a lopsided smile. "I half-expected her to deny it last week. She's so…" He let his voice trail off and grinned at his unspoken thought. "This isn't about me. What are you going to do about Hermione?"

Harry shrugged. If he knew what to do, he wouldn't be going to either of them for advice. "Make myself tell her, I guess. It's her birthday tomorrow, so that's a good time, right?" He didn't care how lost he sounded at the moment, he had no wish to mess this up. He'd risked her giving up on him too many times already.

"Just don't put it on her cake," Ron suggested.

"Or in a card or anything like that," Neville added. "You have to say it if you want her to know you're sincere. The direct approach is the best one."

Harry nodded. "That takes care of one thing," he said. "Now comes the rest of it."

"The rest of what?"

Harry sighed. He couldn't believe he was going to do this. But, it had to be done. Even if he felt like an idiot for even having to admit this weakness. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing with her."

Silence greeted this statement. A long, embarrassing silence during which Harry wished a hole in the floor would open up and he could sink down into it. Was it possible this was a worse thing to get advice for than the whole "feelings" discussion?

"Um…do you want one of us to tell you what goes where?" Neville asked.

Harry laughed. "No, I think I've got that figured out pretty well on my own."

"You sure? Because, there are these charts—"

"What kind of tutoring did Lestrange give you?" Ron asked in a suddenly horrified voice.

Neville smiled and shook his head. "Just extra Potions lessons. I'm not getting into it again," he said. Harry was glad for that. He didn't want to hear the details. It would probably just give him more nightmares. "What do you need to know, Harry?"

At this point, Harry felt himself flush deep enough to match Ron's ears. "Uh…well, I've sort of got the basics down—kissing and the like—but I haven't the first clue how to…get a little further without going straight—"

"Catching the snitch?" Neville suggested.

"What?"

"Catching the snitch, it's the whole point of the game," Neville said. "You know, Quidditch? Left, right, center hoop, maneuvering around the pitch a bit and then catching the snitch."

"I should think of getting closer to Hermione like playing Quidditch?" Harry wasn't sure if the idea appealed to him or was appalling, but the smile dawning on Neville's face promised an interesting explanation at the very least.

Neville shook his head and his grin widened. "I can't believe no one's explained this to you before."

"To be honest, I have had other things on my mind for a while now."

"Right, right. Let me explain how the whole thing works and then I'll give you some tips on…how to play Quidditch properly. Best plays, fastest ways to score and all that."

Harry gave a knowing smile. "I know the fastest way to score already. But, I'm interested in how this all relates to Quidditch."

Neville grinned. "Most first years are interested in the explanation too," he teased. "Okay, right hoop is snogging. Simple enough. Apparently, you've accomplished that without anyone getting hexed in the process. There's some confusion about whether left or center hoop is next—"

"Center," Ron supplied.

"Left if this were a real game using proper strategy," Harry said.

"Doesn't matter," Neville said. "Right-to-center hoop is…how do I put this? Playing with her prophecy orbs while they're still…in the protective covering." He grinned. "Generally playing around the pitch. Good times for a beginner. Hell, good times if you're in the back of the library and no one's around," he said, smirking. "Center hoop is getting rid of the clothes, a little more creative play with the orbs. I wouldn't try that in the library unless you fancy Madam Pince putting you in a vise. And not the good kind." Neville grinned wider at Harry's deepening blush. "Not bothering you, am I? I could use more clinical terms."

Harry shook his head. "Keep going. This is interesting."

"Center-to-left hoop is letting her play with your broom, petting her Kneazle. Nothing too hardcore. Clothing optional but not preferred. Left hoop is major broom play, more petting, possibly more than petting if you're that brave. Pretty much anything you can get away with. Last step is catching the snitch." He nodded in Harry's direction. "You're sure I don't have to explain that in more detail for you?"

Harry laughed. "I'm sure I can figure it out, thanks. So, tips?"

"Easy," Neville said. "Go slow around the right hoop; that's a step you can never, ever skip. Even if you've been doing it for a bloody hour." He rolled his eyes as if remembering some drawn-out play of the game himself. "Moving to center hoop requires a little more…of a gentle touch. Don't be afraid to use your mouth. No teeth unless you do it lightly. Excessive squeezing is a really good way to get a knee somewhere unpleasant. Get good enough at scoring through this hoop and you can move straight to catching the snitch. Sometimes, though, going through all of them is worth all of the drama it took to get the girl to play in the first place."

Harry grinned and shook his head. A month ago, he never would've dreamed he'd hear Neville talk this way. Would've laughed if anyone had told him it was possible. He leaned against the bedpost as Neville continued.

"Center-to-left, again, way more fun than skipping steps. Be careful if your girl has sharp nails, though. You might want to cut yours too. If you've got good hand coordination, try center hoop at the same time. Same for balancing left and center. Left hoop is obviously a far more interesting use of the fingers. Best bet is go very slow here and pay attention to what she likes. I doubt Hermione would curse your bits off, but go sailing through this hoop too fast or too rough and we might end up calling you Harriet until you can get everything re-grown."

Harry laughed out loud at that. He couldn't imagine Hermione castrating him if he wasn't perfect first time out. But he could easily see her giving him step-by-step instructions. She'd probably love to order him around in bed. Admittedly, the thought appealed to him. Though, not as much as surprising her with his newfound expertise on a few things she might like.

"Catching the snitch," Neville said slowly. "Honestly, I can't give you any tips for that except don't jump into it too fast, definitely don't end the game too soon after you've gotten permission to catch it, wait for the other player to um… score before you do and, Merlin's sake, do _not_ ask her if you can fly your broom in anywhere unusual unless you're absolutely sure she'd be up for that."

"What—?" Several images flashed through Harry's mind of what Neville might be hinting at before his sleep-starved brain showed him a picture of Hermione bending over in front of him, a wicked smile on her face. "Oh, never mind," Harry said. "Hermione would kill me if I so much as hinted I wanted to…fly in the back way."

Neville nodded. "Figured as much. Most girls our age aren't that adventurous, or so Lavender tells me. She'd know, seeing as how she's got a line on every girl third year and up." He smiled at Ron. "You really need to get around to asking Parvati out. Lavender tells me her diary has some pretty colorful entries about you."

Before Ron could splutter out a response to this revelation, Neville turned to Harry again. "Also, you may want to clip the extra twigs around the base of your broom."

"What? Why?"

One corner of Neville's mouth went down in a frown. "Maybe cut the grass around the snake is more appropriate. Anyway, trimming makes it look better and she'll be a hell of a lot more likely to uh…give it a little pet. If you're lucky, she might even kiss your snake. Lavender really—" He stopped, grinning when he thought of it his own girlfriend. Again, Harry resisted the urge to ask for a detailed explanation of that particular facial expression. Perhaps it was best to wait until he had his own stories to share. Or adequate time to make up some believable game plays.

"Whatever you do, don't use magic to trim," Ron said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Neville shot a quick look over to Ron before the other boy's face broke into a wide grin. "Just trust me. It's safer."

"You're probably right. With the amount of sleep I've been getting lately, I don't need to take the chance," Harry said. "Have you got any tips for slowing her down when she's trying to play the game so fast you can hardly keep up?"

"I told you he's nuts," Ron said. At Harry's stricken look, he added, "Come on. You're actually complaining about Hermione coming on to you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not complaining. It's just that sometimes, she gets so…enthusiastic, I have to keep reminding myself I can't rip her clothes off and end the teasing. Skip the steps and all that. In the back of her mind, I'm sure she doesn't want to rush, but she has no idea what she's playing with there."

"You can't rip her clothes off?" Ron asked. Laughter peppered his words.

"Wait, stop," Neville said. He quickly thought back to the beginning of their conversation. "I thought you just wanted me to explain the metaphor and tell you what you might be doing wrong. You seriously haven't caught the snitch yet?"

"No," Harry said after a pause. "I thought I'd made that clear. We still have all that feelings stuff to deal with before I can even go there with her."

"That's odd," Neville said. "After the way Professor McGonagall freaked out last term, I really thought you two had—"

Harry shook his head. "We were just kissing. It probably looked bad to Professor McGonagall because we were on the bed, but nothing else happened," Harry said.

"That's kind of funny," Neville remarked. "Lavender's convinced Hermione was lying when she told her the same thing and that's one of the reasons she—" He stopped suddenly and grinned. "I can't say I'm sorry she got her information wrong. Do me a favor and make sure your girl never lets on that nothing more has happened between you."

Harry laughed. "Don't tell me she—"

Neville nodded. "Was quite…enthusiastic about it too. With all of the energy she puts into talking, you wouldn't think she'd have much leftover for anything else, but you'd be _dead wrong_. I just need Ron to help me out a little by keeping Parvati busy." He chuckled and again Harry marveled at this confident side to his roommate. "The only thing I can recommend to control Hermione is holding her down or something, just not too roughly. Or order her around. Lavender gets a kick out of both. I bet all bossy girls do." Neville shrugged. "I've told you everything useful I know," he said by way of dismissal.

Harry rose from the bed, nodding as he walked away. "Thanks, both of you." They would never know just how much he'd benefited from their help, Harry considered. At his bedside, he reached into his trunk for a parchment and quill. Hermione was going to have a birthday she'd never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra credit goes to my friends Suzanne and Christopher for the Quidditch basics.


	5. Firsts

When Harry sat down for Potions class the next morning, he was still fighting off the affects of the potion he'd taken the night before—a combination of a deep sleep formula and a dreamless sleep concoction, the strength of which he felt was probably better suited to a nightmare-prone dragon than a fifteen-year-old boy with troubling thoughts. He knew better than to take the entire vial the next time. Even a nap during his mid-morning break hadn't seemed to make a dent in the haze. That was why, when Draco approached Harry, a tentative smile on his face, he couldn't tell if this was another alternate reality, a particularly slow-building nightmare or some complex combination of the two.

"Draco." Harry's voice was sluggish and resigned. "I promised Professor McGonagall I wasn't going to fight you or anyone else. So, if you're here to start up with me again about your dad, I'm not in the mood for it. Send me a Howler or something."

Draco frowned at Harry's dismissive manner, but stayed next to his chair as Harry began unpacking his supplies for class. "I'm not here to argue with you," he whispered. He shifted to the side as Hermione took the seat next to Harry, eyeing him suspiciously. "I just wanted to….apologize," he continued. Hermione swiveled on her chair to stare at Draco.

"Excuse me?" Harry said. He shook his head quickly. Now he knew he was dreaming. That, or he'd taken a stronger hit to the head the previous Saturday than he'd realized.

"I overreacted yesterday," Draco said in a firmer voice. "After speaking with Minister Dumbledore, I understand what happened to my father wasn't your fault."

"Are you saying you didn't notice he was doing it right under your nose?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Draco looked at her and frowned. "What are you going on about?"

"I mean," she said, moving to stand between him and Harry. "He poisoned Harry at King's Cross station with a tainted bottle of butterbeer. Then your father followed Harry into the bathroom and hurt him because he wouldn't give him the parchment he'd stolen." She jabbed a finger in the direction of Draco's chest, stopping just short of touching him. "You were there the entire time."

Eyes widening, Draco looked at Harry over Hermione's shoulder. "You have to believe I didn't know anything about that."

"He doesn't _have_ to accept anything you say," Hermione said, crossing her arms. Her eyes narrowed. "Including your so-called apology."

"Hermione, please stop." At the sound of Harry's whisper behind her, she frowned and moved to her seat again, sitting back to watch the rest of the conversation.

"I had no idea what my father was planning, I told you that over the summer." Draco shook his head. "I wasn't involved in what he tried to do to you or anything else since school started."

"I believe you," Harry said. "And I accept your apology."

Under Hermione's watchful gaze, Draco attempted a small smile. "So we're friends again?"

"Are you daft?" Hermione asked. At Harry's chiding look, she blew out a small puff of air and turned her back, reaching for her bag.

"We can talk later," Harry said. Draco nodded and headed into the far corner of the room to sit with Crabbe and Goyle.

"You'll have to explain what that was about later since you're so well-versed on Draco today," Harry whispered to Hermione.

She turned to him, one eyebrow raised. Harry was immediately reminded of Professor McGonagall. "I should think it's obvious," she said. "The little snake is up to something and he thinks you're the means to get it. If you trust him, so help me, I will slap you again."

Harry chuckled as the classroom door opened and closed behind them. "I've learned my lesson about listening to you, Hermione." He nodded in his direction as Ron took the seat on his other side. "I'll be safer if I just remember you're almost always right."

"Almost?" she asked.

Before Harry could respond, their new professor cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to the front of the room. His gaze on the green-eyed student at the front center table, the new professor smiled and said, "We didn't get a chance to meet the other day, Harry. I'm Professor Slughorn."  


* * *

  
Harry took a sip from his pumpkin juice and eyed the plate of food that had seemed tasteless from the moment he'd tried to force it down. He knew the roast beef sandwich was fine—was, in fact, one of the best things they served at Hogwarts—but his nerves about his impending night with Hermione had disabled his ability to enjoy his lunch. His stomach was so unstable, he was surprised the little bit of food he had eaten hadn't made a reappearance. Feeling her gaze on him, Harry smiled at Hermione, sure he was about to get a lecture on his eating habits going the way of his sleep habits.

"What did you think of Professor Slughorn?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "He's all right, I guess. The first class felt weird, though. I lost track of how many times he mentioned my mum." And Professor Snape, who Slughorn had said was one of the brightest students he'd ever taught.

"Four," Ron supplied from across the table. Neville snickered next to him.

"That was odd," Harry. "The way he was going on, you'd think he has a crush on her or something."

"Would you blame him?" Ron asked. "Your mum—" The sentence was cut short as Neville elbowed his best friend in the ribs.

"He told us yesterday she was one of his best students. He was upset that he hadn't made it in time to give her his condolences in person," Neville said, ignoring Ron's coughs next to him. "He'll probably stop bugging you about her soon."

"I hope so," Harry said. "I'd kind of like being out of the spotlight for once." He frowned down at his plate and pushed it to the center of the table. "Fat chance of that happening, though."

"Why do you say that?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "My luck. Every time I think things are settling down, something new starts up."

"It won't always be that way," Hermione said.

Harry said nothing in response. He knew she couldn't be sure of that any more than she could be sure Draco wasn't going to help him in some way. He had been helpful while they'd been investigation Snape, even if Hermione didn't want to admit it. Not that he had a strong incentive to help Harry after all that had happened, but Harry wouldn't discount Draco from the equation—especially with Professor McGonagall and the Ministry to protect him if something went wrong. Assuming Hermione didn't hurt Draco first if the need arose.

A low murmur rose in the room as three owls flew in bearing packages. They landed on the table in front of Harry and waited expectantly as he shuffled through the pockets of his robes before pulling out a heavy bag of coins. After dropping the appropriate amount of money into the bags tied to their legs, each allowed him to untie his packages—one medium-sized, flat box; a small, square box and a larger box the size of his Herbology text, all with letters attached to them—before flying out through one of the open windows of the Great Hall. Harry's stomach relaxed a bit and he smiled before reaching for his glass to take another sip of juice.

"This is an odd time for mail. What did you order?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "Can't tell you."

"What do you mean, you can't tell me?"

"It's nothing, Hermione. Just some stuff I needed for this project I have to work on tonight."

"You have a project? For which class?"

When Harry looked at her, he noticed Lavender and Parvati on her other side, obviously waiting to hear the answer too. "Don't worry about it," he said smoothly. "I've just got this thing I need to work on after Quidditch practice. It's not a big deal."

She crossed her arms and frowned at him. "If it's not a big deal, why can't you tell me?"

Harry sighed. He hadn't counted on her inquisitive nature driving her to wheedle the surprise out of him before he had a chance to give it to her. She'd just have to spend the afternoon upset. He couldn't tell her what was in the boxes yet. "I promise to tell you everything you need to know after practice."

"Do you really have to go to practice tonight?" Hermione asked.

He frowned. Now she was being ridiculous. "Definitely. Angelina is worried we won't be ready for the first match. I already missed one practice when I was…away for the weekend," Harry said, eyeing Lavender as she listened. "Can we meet at our spot after practice? Say, an hour after?"

Hermione nodded, staring at her plate.

Harry reached for his bag under the table and stuffed the two smaller boxes into it. "I'll see you tonight, then?" She nodded again, not turning to look at him. "Happy birthday, Hermione." He kissed her on the cheek, grabbed the largest box and left to deposit all three boxes in his trunk before class.  


* * *

  
Draco sat on the largest chair in the Slytherin common room, his cool gaze going out slowly over the room before him. The other students were going about their usual—homework, mindless chatter; Crabbe, Goyle and a few of the younger students were practicing hexes in the shadowed corner, their soft grunts and incantations kept muted by a few spells surrounding the area. Closing his eyes, Draco imagined he was sitting on a tall throne made of skulls, his right foot resting on the shiny, recently-acquired skull of one Harry Potter. Shifting his foot, he relished the smooth, marble-like texture of the bone beneath his shoe and the scraping sound his shoe made as he mimed grinding his heel onto the top of the traitor's skull.

A bit more morbid than his usual thoughts, surely, but Draco thought it was fitting to imagine the possibilities as he plotted his revenge. He probably wouldn't do something as crass as standing on Potter's bones, but betraying the trust of someone who didn't deserve his was at the top of a long list of plans Draco knew had to be carried forward with the utmost care to detail.

He just wished Aunt Bella had given him more to go on. In spite of her requests, he had no real idea what her plan was, and therefore, no idea what kind of information he needed to pass on. He wasn't about to write down Potter's every word. She could've contracted a house-elf for that. No, there had to be more to this mission than common secretarial work.

If it was important enough for the Minister to get personally involved, Draco deserved to know exactly what he was getting into. Especially in light of how it was most likely to end. He had no illusions about that. Dumbledore would hunt him down if he knew Draco was helping Bellatrix, or even if he knew they had a method of communication. If he was aware of nothing else, the Slytherin knew his days at Hogwarts—and maybe as a part of normal Wizarding society—would be numbered after he completed his mission, no matter how careful he was. He wasn't going to throw everything away for no reason, even if meant free reign to get his revenge on Potter before he left school.

Bellatrix had a vicious, unruly side to her the students and professors at Hogwarts had never seen. Even with Snape and his own father to reign her in, Draco knew her part of the previous plan—however obscure the idea was to him—was probably menial at best. With her in charge of the operations, how could he be sure his own best interests would be served once she got what she wanted? Of even more concern than that, how did he know Bella's mysterious plan would even work?

She'd already pushed for information, writing nearly a page asking what he'd already uncovered in the time since Professor's Snape funeral. He'd said little in response, merely that he was working on worming his way into Potter's trust, but he would have to get past Granger to get anywhere useful. He didn't mention the threat from Dumbledore, not only because it was his problem to deal with, but because his aunt would not care for his whining. For that matter, neither would he.

What he wanted was assurance that she might not be able to give him. There was too much at stake for Draco to jump in and do his aunt's bidding without a serious measure of disclosure on her part. If she wanted a servant to mindlessly do her bidding, she could very well order a house-elf to follow Potter and Longbottom and even the Minister himself until she got what she needed. If she needed a partner to help her carry out her plans, then Draco knew he would have to inform her of his terms. Information for information. Treat him as an equal, if he was as important to her plans and "protecting the family name" as she'd written in the book. Otherwise, he might have to consider Dumbledore's "offer" as a jumping off point for his own negotiations. Inwardly, he shuddered at the idea. But if Aunt Bella failed to produce something solid for him to rely on, Draco would do what he had to. He wouldn't have a choice.  


* * *

  
Harry paced back and forth inside the Room of Requirement, mentally checking his list of everything he'd need to make the night perfect. He glanced at the table. Jewelry and other gifts, check. The fireplace and candles around the room, lit. He stopped pacing and turned to face the bed that had been silently mocking him since he'd stepped into this life. Clean sheets and an extra-soft mattress, conjured. Fixing up the small, boring slab into a slightly larger, cushy masterpiece had been the first thing he'd done upon coming into the room minutes before. Not that they'd get a chance to use it if he didn't get through his little prepared speech. Now that he thought of that—one Gryffindor about to stutter on about his feelings, present and scared out of his Dementor-fighting, sword-wielding, dragon-battling mind.

That other stuff he could do with his eyes closed. Looking Hermione in the eye while he opened up his heart? Right then it seemed scarier than walking into that dark maze at the end of the Triwizard tournament. At least Harry knew he could handle the machinations of a disguised Death Eater. Could he handle it if what he had to say to Hermione wasn't enough? Or worse, if she had given up on him by now? The way she'd been acting the past couple of days, he wouldn't be surprised if she was at least considering it.

There was something about her expression after he'd kissed her the day before—he wouldn't be shocked if she did tell him she was tired of waiting. It wouldn't be far-fetched to think she'd only stuck with him this long because he didn't really have anyone else. A noble sacrifice and all that. Of all people, pity from Hermione would wound him the most. He needed more from her, a lot more. He only hoped he could get her to believe it.

Hearing the door open behind him, Harry turned and smiled as Hermione came in, swiftly closing the door behind herself. She'd changed out of her school uniform into a thigh-length, curve-hugging black dress. Harry reminded himself to continue breathing as she walked across the room. He wanted to ask when she'd ever bought something so…so…he quickly realized there were no words. As she reached him, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek.

"You look amazing," Harry said.

Hermione nodded, blushing at the compliment. One hand went to push a lock of hair behind her ear. "Thank you. I wasn't sure if I should change at all, but Ron insisted I wear something nice for you." She shook her head and Harry noticed that she'd spent time taming the thick locks. The normally bushy curls now fell in mostly calm waves to the center of her back. "I feel silly for not realizing earlier you were trying to plan something for me."

"You're not silly," Harry said. "Just impossible to surprise."

She grinned. "Not impossible. I promise Ron didn't tell me what you have planned," she said, glancing around the room.

"He doesn't know," Harry said. He gestured to a chair at the table. "Sit down and get comfortable. There's a lot I want to say."

"Ooh, a talk?" Hermione said. Her nervous laughter trilled throughout the room as she sat at the table. "It must be serious if it deserves a talk."

"Depends on how you look at it," Harry responded. He sat across from her and mentally went over the speech he'd been writing in his head in classes the entire day. None of his beginnings sounded right. He'd be better off starting with the gifts he'd ordered the night before. He reached across the table and picked up one of the packages he'd received earlier, still wrapped in the plain brown paper from the store.

"Here," Harry said, handing the bundle to her. "Sorry I haven't quite learned how to transfigure the paper into something nicer yet."

"That's fine," Hermione said, accepting the package. "Makes it easier to do this," she remarked, ripping the paper open. "_Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts_," she read from the cover. She looked up at him. "Why do I need this if I have you around to protect me?"

It was a struggle, but he kept himself from laughing. She was definitely a change from the Hermione who'd told him he had a saving-people thing. "I thought about giving you the Lockhart book in my trunk, but I didn't want to be responsible for you dying laughing." He grinned at her. "Sirius and Professor Lupin gave me this for Christmas and it's really helpful. Professor McGonagall is going to let me train Neville and a lot of what we'll be doing is going to come from this book."

Harry shrugged. "You'll be practicing with us sometimes, but I know you like reading the theories behind things like this. Besides, I'm not always able to protect people, even when I want to be," he added, his thoughts suddenly turning to Cedric and Sirius—who he'd had to travel back in time to save his third year when he couldn't accomplish it the first time..

"I see," Hermione said. She clutched the book to her chest and forced a small smile. "It was a wonderful thought, Harry. I'm sure it will come in handy someday," she said quietly.

Noticing her change in tone, Harry frowned. "You don't like it? I'd considered giving you a different kind of book, but I thought you might appreciate something more practical. Obviously, it would be better if you never had to use any of it," he babbled, "but I wanted to be sure you could always protect yourself." Her smile turning into a small frown, Hermione stood from the table, still clutching the book tightly to her chest. "What's wrong?"

"It's…nothing, Harry." Hermione looked down briefly. "Thank you for the book. I should go." She brushed past him and walked quickly to the door.

"Hermione, wait!" Harry caught up with her just as she reached for the door handle. "Don't leave," Harry said. She turned to face him. He could hardly tell in the light, but he hoped she hadn't started crying. He knew then he couldn't wait any longer. He had to say something. Honestly seemed like the best option. "I don't know what to do here. This is really hard for me."

"I know," Hermione said softly. She turned halfway to the door, took a step, then stopped again. "Don't stress yourself out. You have more than enough to worry about." A hand on her shoulder stopped her from moving further.

"I'm not thinking about anything else but you right now." He pulled her away from the door until she stood before him, frowning. "I've screwed up with you, haven't I?"

Her eyes dropped. "No. I know I've been a crazy person lately, but you don't have to worry about it. Maybe you were right. I have been rushing you to feel a certain way because it's what I need from you," she said. She crossed her arms and shifted the book in her hand. Hermione's eyes stayed glued to the floor. "I'm sorry I've been so selfish," she whispered.

"I think it's more important for you to concentrate on what you're going to do about You-Know-Who and the prophecy instead of trying to give me what I want. You need all of your energy to focus and I've been trying to get you to put my needs ahead of so many other things. You're not ready and I'm prepared to live with that." She turned to walk past him again and Harry grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him in one swift move.

"Harry—"

"Hermione, just listen or I'll never get this out." At her sigh, he added, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Just…it seems like we're at cross-purposes. I brought you in here so I could tell you why I've been acting a little strange the past couple of days."

"I think I know," she said. She continued to look away from him.

"No, you don't, or you wouldn't be quite so upset." She looked up then and Harry could tell from her expression she was ready to disagree with that assessment. He took a deep breath and pulled Hermione into his arms. She was stiff, but let him hold her. "I've been struggling the past few days because I didn't know how to tell you…" He stopped and then bent to whisper in her ear.

Hermione giggled and pulled away from him. The way her face was lit made her more beautiful than he could ever remember seeing. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Could you say it a bit louder?"

Blushing, Harry pulled her close again and kissed her. He felt her relax in his arms and some of his own tension eased; a different kind of energy seemed to flow through him as they kissed. After a long moment, he reluctantly let her go. Looking into her eyes again, he knew his timing had been perfect. "You're not really going to make me say it out loud, are you?"

Hermione grinned as if she was debating torturing him with the request. "If you can't say it out loud," she began, "I don't know if I can believe you. After all, you've been fighting me all this time."

"A pretty useless pursuit, though it took me a while to figure that out. Good thing you're determined when you want something." Harry grinned briefly before his face took on a serious expression. He looked into her eyes to gather his courage before he began speaking again. "You love me and I don't think I really knew what that means until recently. If you're not constantly worried about me or force feeding me—" he stopped to roll his eyes and Hermione smiled— "you're doing everything you can to keep me sane, to make me happy." He smiled and raised one hand to slowly stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"I've gotten so used to you looking out for me in every way, it never occurred to me that all of it was a part of the same thing for you—loving me. I thought feeling protective about you was pretty much the same and being attracted to you now wouldn't do much to change the whole brother-sister thing I'd felt before."

Hermione dropped her arms to her sides and took a step back. "This is supposed to confirm to me that your feelings have changed?"

"I'm getting there," he said, smiling at her impatience. Harry raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head and shuffled his feet as he searched through the rest of the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind since the first time she'd kissed him. It was hard to concentrate with her staring at him like that, especially knowing she'd been about to run out on him minutes before.

"It never occurred to me that all of my other feelings, plus being attracted to you, was a lot more than I'd ever felt about Cho—or any other girl. It took until recently to figure out that's what you've been trying to explain to me, that we didn't need anything more than that. I'd been beating myself up all this time and it really was that simple." He rolled his eyes again. "I had this idea that love was only this confusing, complicated adult thing and I didn't see it doesn't always have to be like that.

"Of course, my fighting you every step of the way was because I didn't know how to deal with not thinking of you in a sisterly way. It doesn't matter what happens from here on out, I'll never be able to think of you that way again. I'm happy about that, even if you think you were just being selfish. You've been trying so hard to do things that will make me happy and I want to do the same for you." He took another deep breath. "I know waiting for me to figure things out has been hard on you, but I had to let you know how much I need you in my own time."

Hermione grinned and stepped close again. Close enough that he could smell her light perfume. Harry smiled down into her eyes and quickly forgot what he'd been planning to say next. The book dropped from her hand and Hermione reached up, pulling Harry into a deep kiss that left him with shaking hands when she pulled away.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For saying all of that," Hermione responded. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear it."

"I think I do," Harry said. "I needed to say it too. I feel like a weight has been lifted off me and I can't even say when I…" He stopped, giving himself a few seconds to mirror Hermione's smile. "Is it normal for it to be this intense? I mean, at our age?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't think anyone can say what's normal, but I don't think there's anything wrong with how we feel about each other." She smiled. "I love saying it that way, _how we feel about each other_."

A corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. "I'm kind of surprised you didn't lose your patience with me long before now." His hands moved from her back to settle low on her hips. He laughed softly as a thought came to him. "It's no wonder they told me to say it out loud, that whole confession never would've fit on a card."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "You got advice from someone about talking to me?"

"I—" He stopped and nodded, not wanting to speak further on the off chance he might accidentally let her know the extent of the advice. He didn't think she'd appreciate the talk, much as Harry hoped she would benefit from it.

Hermione smiled as she leaned up to kiss him again. "That's so sweet. You really were worried."

"Yes," Harry said. "I don't want to lose you. You do know that now, right? You're sure of my feelings?"

Hermione nodded and kissed him briefly on the lips again. "As long as you're sure of them and don't feel as if I've pressured—"

"Hermione, you need to learn when to stop talking." At her affronted gasp, Harry leaned down to kiss her again, considering it a short lesson in communicating without words, something they'd perfected as friends in his previous life. Thinking of the possibilities of where this communication could lead, Harry decided he much preferred this method. Especially when he slipped his hands low and squeezed and she made that little moaning sound in the back of her throat.

"I have something else for you," he said. _Quite a few things if the night goes as planned_, he thought.

"Really?" She licked her lips and smiled up at him. "This has been more than enough," Hermione responded. She leaned up on her toes and kissed him. "There's nothing more I could want for my birthday."

"I hope I can change your mind about that," he said. Taking her hand in his, Harry led her back to the table, scooping up the book he'd bought on the way. When she was settled, he said, "I hope you respond to the rest of my gifts better than you did the first."

Hermione laughed. "I'm sorry, but you have no idea how nervous I've been for days. I thought sure you were going to break up with me so you could run off and save us all from You-Know-Who." Her giggling stopped and she regarded him seriously. "This time, I would've let you."

"I know," Harry said. "But I don't need to choose which one to focus on. It'll be easier to face him if I have you by my side." He smiled. "Speaking of giving you my heart…" His grin widened at her immediate giggle. Harry didn't mind. He was in the mood to say goofy things. Harry pulled a small black jewelry box from his pocket and held it out to her. Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth formed into a small 'O' as she stared at the box. When she didn't take it from him, Harry frowned. "What's wrong?"

Hermione looked up at him and opened and closed her mouth soundlessly a few times. After a few seconds, she seemed to gather herself enough to attempt speech. "I—" She stopped again, then stared at the box as if it were going to bite her.

Harry laughed, finally figuring out why she was so shocked. If he'd known that was all it took to make her nearly speechless… "It's not an engagement ring, Hermione. Relax."

She blew out a heavy breath and took the box from his hand. "Not that I don't care about you a lot, but—"

"I understand. Open it."

She lifted the lid on the small box and gasped. Fingers trembling, Hermione pulled the necklace from the box, smiling as the two-inch clear crystal heart caught the light from the candles on the table and refracted it around the room. "It's beautiful," she breathed.

"It's charmed," he said, standing to put it on for her. When he sat again, Harry said, "It's called the Vires Charm. I've already set it for me, but I need to set it for you." Harry tried not to laugh. Hermione was staring down at his gift and wiping at the side of her face with one hand. He didn't know if she'd heard a word he'd said. When he placed the tip of his wand on the crystal, Hermione looked up at him, finally remembering he was there. He said the incantation and then motioned to Hermione with his other hand. "Say something."

"I love you." She looked down at the necklace again and grinned. "It's beautiful," she repeated. "What is it supposed to do?"

"The letter from the jeweler said as long as the charm is active, it will enhance how we experience our feelings for each other. I should say, we'll each feel what the other feels. We can turn it off at anytime or leave it. After a while, it'll be so attuned to us we won't need wands to use it."

Hermione frowned. "How exactly will it work? I thought a charm like that would only work directly on a person for a limited amount of time."

Harry shrugged. "She said it was a traditional Valentine's Day gift and their most popular product." He touched the crystal heart with one finger, watching the light dance across its surface. "We could test it out."

"How would we do that?"

Scarcely had she gotten her question out than Harry leaned over to kiss her, slipping his hand to her thigh. She moaned in surprise. When he pulled away, Harry looked at her in question.

"That was…wow," Hermione said; she took several large breaths, her eyes wide.

Harry glanced at the necklace, a skeptical frown on his face. "Are you sure it did something? I didn't feel anything." When Hermione frowned, he added, "No more than the usual."

"It may only work for me because I was wearing it when you did the spell. Do the charm for yourself again." After he complied, she pulled him forward into another kiss. Harry nearly fell to the floor with its initial impact. As Hermione's hands moved over his hair and her lips glided over his, it felt as if every nerve in his body had suddenly come alive and begun thrumming with intense pleasure. If this is what she was feeling now, Harry wasn't sure going further wouldn't give him a heart attack.

Pulling away from the kiss, Hermione said breathlessly, "I can't wait to see what else you got me for my birthday." She put a hand on his wrist. A small jolt shot up his arm at the contact. "Show me."

Harry swallowed hard. He would have to turn the charm off before she got too excited. He wouldn't be able to walk around the castle with his body tingling this way, let alone go to sleep later. Or anything else he still wanted to do before the night was over.

He reached for the largest box and held it out to her. "I wasn't sure about this. I think most people go for plain chocolates or something traditional like that, but I wanted to try something different. Mr. Flume said these are his wife's favorites."

Hermione smiled as she peeled back the paper from the box. "Honeydukes, hmm? You could've gotten me chocolates from there. Ooh, the box is cold," she remarked, removing the rest of the paper and settling the box on her lap.

"The charm is to keep them fresh for a few days," Harry said, motioning for her to lift the lid.

"Ooh, chocolate-dipped strawberries! They're big, too." Hermione grinned up at him and held the box out. "You have to feed them to me." She licked her lips and leaned forward, mouth open.

After moving his chair next to hers, Harry lifted a strawberry from the box and held it out to her; his thoughts and heartbeat raced as her lips wrapped around the fruit. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure as she bit down, licking the juice from her lips before chewing and swallowing. Hermione finished off the fruit in his hand quickly before urging Harry to pick up another.

As she bit into the second strawberry, she grabbed his wrist and held it in place. Finishing this strawberry just as quickly as the first, Hermione licked the dripping juice from his fingers before turning a wicked smile on Harry. "You really have to taste these," she said. "They're delicious."

Eyeing the spot of chocolate on the side of her mouth, he nodded. "I intend to find that out for myself." Harry dropped the box to the table and planted his lips on hers; he had to grip his chair when the charm added its influence on the moment. After a minute, Harry couldn't tell what was more intoxicating—the fruit and chocolate or her own sweetness as he explored it with his tongue. Panting, he pulled away from her and fumbled in his pocket for his wand.

"The uh…" He motioned to the necklace and Hermione nodded, holding it out so he could end the effects of the charm. "Now that we've got it working, the sparks coming from that thing are likely to set the room on fire."

Hermione giggled and put a hand on Harry's knee. "It's not the charm doing that, Harry. The only thing making me this hot is you. The spell just serves to heighten what we already feel. Personally, I like the way the crystal works."

Nodding, Harry kissed her again, surprised what he felt from this kiss wasn't too far from what he'd felt when the charm was still working. He supposed it was the mixture of her perfume, the tastes of sweets still on her tongue and the way Hermione's hand kept making slow circular sweeps up his thigh as he moved closer, until he was practically on top of her chair.

Separating their lips, Hermione said, "We should move." Harry nodded. "To the sofa," she added.

He shook his head and smiled. "To the bed."

"I—what?" Her eyes widened and her hand went still on his leg.

If she hadn't been teasing him almost constantly for two weeks, he might have felt sorry for putting the comically surprised expression on Hermione's face. As it was, he could barely keep his voice steady as he responded to her half-formed question.

"There's nothing I want more right now than to be with you," Harry said quietly. "If you still want that."

"Wait…right now? Just like that?"

Harry chuckled. "I hope it's not over _just like that_, but yeah. Now." He leaned over to kiss her then and felt an immediate flood of relief when she kissed him back.

It couldn't have been more than a heartbeat later when they found themselves stretched out on the enlarged bed, Hermione's eyes wide on Harry's face as she faced the realization of what she'd been wishing for. She was glad she'd quickly cast a charm to keep herself from feeling any pain and another for contraception. She had the feeling she'd soon be too far gone to remember anything outside of wanting Harry.

From the first moment Harry began kissing her neck, Hermione felt a bundle of nerves tighten in her stomach. She didn't want to ruin their first time, but she couldn't help closing her eyes and stiffening under his touch. It didn't make any sense. She'd been longing to be with him this way for what seemed like forever and all she could think of now was how horrifying it would be if she had been wrong and what they could have wouldn't be enough for him. Her growing sense of horror increased when Harry stopped kissing her and whispered her name softly, inviting, teasing.

His hand moved to her waist and then he whispered her name again. This time his voice was begging, tugging at the knot of apprehension until she felt it loosen the barest amount. Hermione opened her eyes and looked at her boyfriend. His bright green eyes were filled with a myriad of emotions, but concern for her had taken the forefront.

Hermione had no idea what was stopping her, she just knew getting what she wanted had seemed such a long way off before he'd finally agreed. She hadn't had time to even think of what she wanted beyond a vague idea of their being together. The knowledge that it was finally happening was so exhilarating and amazing and scary she could barely wrap her mind around it, let alone make herself believe she could please him this way without the bravado that normally took over when she was with him. Her nerves had picked a fine time to desert her.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. He glanced down the bed at their naked bodies, a smile briefly touching his lips. "I understand if I'm intimidating to you. If you want to, we can stop here. I promise not to tease you later. Not too much."

Unable to stop herself, Hermione grinned. "You'd never let me forget it," she remarked. Nor would she stop calling herself eleven kinds of fool if she let this moment get away unfulfilled. She loved him. There was nothing to fear. Hermione placed a hand on his arm at her waist. "I don't want to stop. Just go slow, all right?"

Harry nodded and then his lips were on hers, his tongue softly questing until she opened up to him, sighing as he joined their mouths deeper. It was slow as she'd requested, achingly tender, and Hermione fought the urge to grab Harry by the hair and force him to put an end to the torture he was just starting.

His hand moved down from her waist and then up to her chest, where his slowly moving fingers found the peak of one breast and brushed across in the lightest of sweeping caresses. Hermione arched her back until her breast filled his hand, wiggling in place until he squeezed the soft flesh. Harry moved to kiss her neck and a sigh escaped her mouth as he squeezed again. His other hand grazed lightly over her—down her arm, over her stomach and down the outside of her thigh. Her skin felt as if it were on fire everywhere he touched and Hermione closed her eyes, aching to feel the delicious sensation all over her body.

When she felt the warmth of his mouth on her breast, Hermione's eyes shot open. Her breathing nearly doubled in speed and she clutched at Harry's head, panting as his tongue flicked over her nipple, followed by a light grazing of his teeth over the sensitized flesh. Harry looked up at her and she noticed that his eyes seemed to have darkened several shades. He raised his mouth from her skin.

"Hermione, you're hurting me."

She decided to ignore the cocky smirk that followed his statement. Forcing herself to relax, Hermione eased her grip. Her fingers combed soothingly through his hair as he turned his attention to her other breast. Hermione closed her eyes and let the combined sensations of heat and steadily building tension wash over her. Her breathing relaxed into a steady rhythm. The stiffness eased from her limbs, allowing her arms to fall limply to the side and her legs to relax open.

Hermione moaned softly with the movement of Harry's tongue until she suddenly stopped breathing altogether. Harry had slipped a hand between her relaxed thighs and began stroking her slowly as he kissed and suckled her heated skin. She didn't have time to let nerves get to her again before she felt a strange and overpowering new sensation building up beneath his fingers and began moving her hips in rhythm to his soft touches.

"Yes Harry," she moaned. Her moans quickly became incoherent as his hands became more bold in their exploration. Hermione bucked her hips against Harry's hand again and grabbed his hair roughly, pulling his head up until his lips covered hers. Her tongue reached out to stroke his just as one finger, then two, opened her to him; their tongues began touching and thrusting at the same increasingly frantic rhythm. Within minutes, the feel of Harry inside her—not at all how her body craved him—became too much for her and Hermione pulled her mouth from his, begging him in a whispered rush of words to join their bodies.

Seconds later, her hips met his, thrust for thrust. Her name fell from Harry's lips in a building wave, becoming one word in chorus with the indistinguishable cries falling from her lips. Hermione cleaved herself to him, arms and legs locking over his sweaty back, her eyes squeezed tight as she lost herself to the emotions flooding through her. All too soon, they separated and Harry fell back onto the bed panting, an arm across his chest as he tried to regain his breath.

"It's your fault, you know."

It took Hermione a few moments to register Harry's words. She frowned. Had she really been that bad? From her perspective it had been…well, not anything near what Harry could be complaining about. She turned to him, her brow furrowed in concern. "What is?"

"You—" He swallowed hard. "The way you were touching me. The sounds you were making. It was a wonder I controlled myself as long as I had."

After taking a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, Hermione managed a chuckle. "I hate to ruin your little blame party, but it was you driving me to distraction." She moved to plant her chin in the middle of his chest. One hand adjusted to rest low on his stomach. A leg slid up to rub between his. At the result, Hermione smiled. "I see you're ready again. How about we ignore what I said earlier about going slow? If you can handle that."

A low growl was the closest she got to a vocal response as Harry flipped her onto her back on the mattress, pinning her hands over her head in the process.  


* * *

  
He'd lost track of how much time had passed, but as she lay in his arms some time later, her body warming his chest, her hair tickling the crook of one arm, Harry found the courage to say the words aloud as Hermione slept. He pulled his arms tight around her, brushed her hair away from her face and whispered, "I love you." 


	6. Alliances

The next morning, Harry woke still wearing a wide smile from the night before. As he got ready for class, flashes of the night crossed through his mind and he nearly had to stop himself from laughing out of giddiness as he remembered what had taken place, every action and word that had contributed to the best night of his life. By the time he made it downstairs to breakfast, not only did Harry not mind the growing pain in his lower back, he began to look forward to what Hermione was calling their "private study time." Harry's smile widened when he sat at the table and Hermione immediately pulled him closer for a long kiss before silently going back to her breakfast, a wide smile of her own on her face.

Neville eyed Harry from across the table. He smirked as Hermione started playing with Harry's hair. "So Harry, how was Quidditch yesterday?"

Harry glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. "Brilliant. Caught the snitch in record time. After the third time, I was pretty tired." Harry choked down building laughter as both Neville and Ron grinned at him. "Impressed the team with how well I negotiated the pitch and a few tricks I recently learned before that, though."

Ron almost choked on his juice from laughter. He put his glass down and winked at the boy next to him. "One of these days, I'm really going to have to find someone to play with. I would love to be good enough to catch three times in one practice."

Glancing to Lavender's other side, Neville said, "Then stop polishing your broom alone and ask someone to play with you. Otherwise, the most you can ever hope to be is a Beater."

"What's wrong with that position?" Parvati asked. "I like Beaters. They get to play rough. Aren't your brothers Beaters, Ron?" She smiled at Ron in encouragement.

Harry grinned as Ron's ears turned bright red. He nodded, at a loss for words.

She shrugged. "I guess you would've had to find another position on the team if you'd hope to play for Gryffindor while they're still here. A shame tryouts are over, I would love to see how you play. You should figure out what other positions you might like."

Face turning redder by the second, Ron cleared his throat a couple of times before nodding at her and saying through a wide grin, "Maybe we could play together after class sometime."

"I'd like that," Parvati said quietly.

She smiled and went back to her breakfast, not noticing the grins the boys exchanged over the table. Or the horrified look Lavender was giving Neville. He shook his head at her, eyebrows raised. After a few seconds of intense glaring, she went back to her own breakfast. Harry figured that even if she knew they hadn't originally been talking about a genuine game of Quidditch, Lavender wouldn't interfere because the conversation had led to her best friend getting a date with a guy she liked. Especially if her boyfriend made good use of their time alone.

A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall walked up to the group at the table, a grim expression on her face. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger."

Harry turned, still wearing a trace of his early morning smile. "Good morning, Professor. Why do I always feel like I'm about to get in trouble when you come to see me in the morning?"

"Perhaps because you're always into something you should not be," McGonagall said. A faint smile was the only indication she was joking. "I need to see both of you in my office promptly at six this evening. The Minister wishes to speak with you Mr. Potter and he has graciously allowed for Miss Granger's tendency to not let you out of her sight."

"Did he tell you why?" Hermione asked.

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "He only indicated that it was of great importance that he speak with you. I imagine he will continue the discussion you began Tuesday."

Death Eaters and why the public is being kept in the dark, Harry considered. He nodded slowly. That was a conversation he would look forward to having, provided it wasn't more of the same nonsense Dumbledore had said to him before.

With a brief inclination of her head, Professor McGonagall left Harry to his thoughts and walked swiftly to the opposite side of the room.

"Do you think there's been any progress?" Hermione whispered.

Harry shook his head. Following her lead, he kept his voice too low for anyone to overhear. "Unless they've found Bellatrix in the past few days, I doubt it. She's the key to this whole thing now." Harry nodded his head in the direction Professor McGonagall had taken. Hermione turned to follow where he indicated. The Headmistress was talking to Draco. "How much do you want to bet he's is going to be a part of our little conference tonight?"

Hermione frowned. "If he is, it won't be because the Minister is concerned with how he's dealing with the upheaval in his family. You already know I think he's up to something."

"I didn't disagree with you," he reminded her. "That doesn't mean we can't use whatever it is to our advantage," Harry said.

"You're assuming anything he says can be trusted."

"No," Harry countered. "I'm assuming whatever Dumbledore had to say to him Tuesday was enough to keep him on our side."

Hermione turned to him. "I'd forgotten they spoke. When I—" She stopped and, looking alarmed briefly, cast her eyes down.

"When you went over there to talk to Dumbledore," he said. Remembering that she hadn't spoken about it since, Harry asked, "What did the two of you talk about anyway? It looked like an argument." When Hermione looked up at him again, Harry was taken aback. There was something dark and unreadable in her expression that inspired a moment of fear before she responded.

"I don't want to say just yet." Hermione put a hand to his wrist when he frowned in response. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't want to keep secrets from you, but I have a few theories about what's going on with You-Know-Who and some other matters and I don't want to say anything until I know for sure. I don't want to scare you," she added softly.

"Why would a theory scare me?" A thousand possibilities ran through his mind, but he couldn't force any of them to make sense. Of all the things that had scared him the past few years, and especially the past few days, a mere theory was the last thing Harry thought would cause him any worry.

She shrugged. "My last theory is that you were dying from whatever happened to you at King's Cross."

"No, your last theory led to the potion that saved my life," Harry reminded her. "Why can't you tell me?"

"I just can't," she said. "But I hope to have the right information soon. I—I'm sorry."

"No, if you feel like I shouldn't worry about it, I won't," Harry said. "I just wish you'd trust me not to get too emotional about it."

"Not get too emotional?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "You-Know-Who may try to kill you and I'm not to expect you to get emotional?" She looked at him quizzically and Harry knew she was thinking of his behavior the past few weeks. He didn't blame her for being a little skeptical of his claim.

Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist to look at his watch. "I need to grab one of my books before class. I'll see you in Charms, Harry." After giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, Hermione grabbed her bag and practically ran out of the Great Hall, leaving Harry to wonder just what kind of theory Hermione could have about Voldemort that could scare him—particularly since the so-called Dark Lord wasn't in a position to go after anyone.  


* * *

  
Neville Longbottom was in trouble. He knew it before Lavender cornered him after their last class of the day. He knew it before she'd sat through History of Magic, scowling at her parchment as she took notes. He knew it as soon as he'd let it slip that he hoped to talk to Harry after his meeting with Dumbledore in the Headmistress's office that night. She'd turned to him and frowned, then proceeded to seethe through the entire class period, saving her ire for when the other students—his friends and hers—left him alone to face whatever she had planned.

Moments after Parvati had bid them both a tentative goodbye, she'd turned to him, her face blank as she asked the first unanswerable question. "What's going on?"

"I—what do you mean?" Neville asked. From her expression, he immediately knew stalling had been the wrong tactic to try.

"I mean," she said, moving to stand over him behind the desk, "why would Harry tell you what the Minister wants to see him about?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "There have been a lot of strange things going on with him the past few weeks," Lavender said. "There's more, isn't there?" Before Neville could interrupt her, she continued. "Professor Snape's been killed. Professor Lestrange just disappeared and Professor McGonagall hasn't given an explanation for it. What is Harry getting into now and what does it have to do with you?"

"Nothing," Neville said. "Nothing, you should worry about," he added at her frown. He reached for her arm, but she pulled back and moved out of his range. "There is…something, but I can't tell you any of it." Great. Now he was sounding like Harry had when he'd first asked for the truth.

"Why can't you tell me what's going on?" Lavender asked.

"Look, I'd like to, but I promised the Minister I wouldn't tell anyone what's happening," Neville said. "Plus, Harry trusted me with a lot of details that he doesn't want getting around." He knew that was the wrong tactic when her face went from passive to hurt in seconds.

"I don't believe it," she said. "Something's going on between the Ministry and Harry Potter and you're right in the middle of it." Lavender pouted. "You don't trust me enough to tell me. I bet you told Ron everything."

Neville looked away from her quickly, sure she'd be able to read the truth in his eyes. "I haven't told him everything," he lied.

"But you've told him something," she said softly. "And I get nothing. After nearly ten months of being your girlfriend, that's the best I can expect from you? I think I deserve more than that."

Neville was tempted to ask if the best he could expect was an undeserved guilt trip, but he knew it wouldn't be fair. She was worried about him and had every right to be. Just as he felt he had every right to tell her what was going on, though he knew it would only worry her more instead of allay whatever fears were forming in her mind about his new association with Harry.

He hadn't helped matters by informing her the day before that he would taking private defense lessons with Harry and he wasn't sure if she'd be allowed to watch as they'd practiced. That had led to Lavender's accusation that he was hiding more than just a need to learn proper defense, which had fed into today's interrogation. His refusal to tell her everything inspired a full-on guilt trip—complete with glaring, pouting and, if he wasn't mistaken, the beginnings of tears. That was low. Even if he knew they were real— Neville couldn't be sure of that at this point—crying was the one thing he didn't want to put up with. Especially knowing he would probably lose his nerve because of them.

"If he's going to get you killed too, I deserve to know why," she said softly. She didn't push him away again as Neville moved to put his arms around her, but Lavender held herself stiffly, still frowning when her boyfriend pulled back to look into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't want you to worry about it."

"Then tell me what's going on," she whispered. "The more you say, the more I think it's something scary. I don't want you to get hurt," she said.

"I won't get hurt."

"Why, because Harry Potter is going to teach you to defend yourself?" Lavender asked, her voice rising. She pushed away from Neville and leaned to the side, drumming her fingers along the desktop. "Do you know how crazy that sounds? He's a student, just like us. What could he possibly teach you that a proper teacher can't? For that matter, why do you trust him to show you anything useful?"

"I…just trust that I know what I'm doing, Lavender," he said. "I know you don't think Harry can help me, but I'm absolutely sure he's not dangerous. If he was, Professor McGonagall wouldn't want him in the school."

"How do we know her judgment can be trusted?"

Neville swore softly, realizing he was quickly digging himself into a hole he wouldn't find his way out of any time soon. There was no getting around this kind of logic. "Trust me, then. I've talked to him more than once since all of this stuff started happening and I believe he's going to do everything he can to help me. Besides, his girlfriend is your roommate and you have no questions at all that Hermione can be trusted. She's around Harry all the time and she stood by him after whatever happened Saturday."

"She's in love with him, she doesn't know any better," was the quick response. Lavender rolled her eyes at Neville's pointed look. "I know she's smart, but that doesn't prove anything. What really happened Saturday? It was obviously more than what was in the paper."

"What happened is in the past," Neville said. "The important thing is that Harry, my friend, made it out alive and he needs my help with something."

"He wants you to help him, but he's got to teach you defense first? So, he is leading you into danger?"

Neville breathed out a long, heavy sigh. "He's not leading me into anything. He told me the situation, I told him I'd be happy to help. Then he said it would be better if I brushed up on my defensive skills before I really get involved and Professor McGonagall agreed. There's nothing more to it."

Lavender stared at him for a long moment, waiting for Neville to continue. When he didn't, she grabbed her book and parchment for class and shoved them inside her bag. "I need to be alone for a little while," she said. Then she turned on her heel and walked quickly from the room, leaving Neville to wonder why he hadn't told her everything. Her smothering concern for him was infinitely better than the silent treatment he knew he'd be getting for a long while.  


* * *

  
Hermione paced back and forth in front of the Headmistress's desk. Her hand rubbed over the crystal resting below her throat as she mumbled to herself, so focused she hardly noticed Harry was there. He watched her move in front of his chair twice before he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.

She shook off his hand. "Something wrong?"

"Yes," he answered. "Stop fiddling with that thing," Harry said, pointing to the necklace. "You're making me nervous. I don't even know why you're anxious. Is something wrong with you?"

"No," Hermione snapped. Her eyes darted to the fireplace where Professor McGonagall had yet to make a reappearance with the Minister. "Yes." She started moving again, this time out of Harry's reach. "I've been thinking about the problem with Draco and I can't wrap my mind around it."

"We don't even know there is a problem with him."

"Exactly," she said. "Dumbledore had a talk with him Tuesday and then yesterday he was all about being friends again. I'm sure Professor McGonagall included him in our meeting tonight, but why? How is it all connected?"

"Have you ever thought it might not be connected?" Harry asked. Her immediate glare answered the question. "It is possible," he said, raising a hand to fend off her objection, "that Draco does want to be close again."

"How can you say something like that?"

"I'm not saying he wants to be friends, but what better way to find out what's going on with the search for his aunt than to talk to someone who seems to have the Minister's ear?" At Hermione's answering frown, Harry said, "It may be nothing more than Draco wanting information. And if he can remember anything else Bellatrix might've said before what happened last week, we might be able to use him. I just want to give him a chance to show what he's about before you go off accusing him."

"Giving him a chance to show what he's about could have us attending your funeral next, Harry," Hermione said in a soft voice. "Don't forget how close you've come to dying recently."

"As if I could ever forget that," Harry responded. "I just don't want to jump to conclusions where Draco is concerned. With spells around the school to protect us, the Floo Network being monitored and Professor McGonagall on my side, neither Draco nor his aunt could so much as cough in my direction without someone all over them. I'm perfectly safe."

"You're perfectly foolish if you really believe that. Aren't you the one that suffered Dementor and Death Eater attacks at school? More than once?"

"You know how I feel about how Dumbledore handled security at Hogwarts," Harry responded, his voice low. "You know why I feel that way. All the more reason for me to get as much information as I can from my own sources." He held up a hand as Hermione made to protest again. "I'm not saying I'm going to believe every word he says, just that I'd like to give him a chance. He might slip up and tell me something useful. I think you forget, Draco has no idea which Harry he's dealing with. He thinks I'm naive where he's concerned, that I've trusted him for years and still do. He doesn't know about the years of animosity, and that I still see something of the prat I left behind in him," Harry said.

"And he doesn't have the first clue what I've survived to get where I am," Harry added. "That will be my advantage if he tries anything. He has no clue and I have no intention of letting on."

Hermione stood stock-still in front of the desk, frowning as she considered Harry's words. "You might be right, but—"

"Hermione, please just trust my judgment on this," Harry interrupted. "I'm going to let him talk to me, whether you want him to or not. I don't care if you stand there with your wand at his neck the entire time, let him say what he will and I will decide how much of it I can trust."

She said nothing, but moved to sit in the chair next to his, facing Professor McGonagall's desk. Hermione didn't move again until Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore stepped through the fireplace and into the office.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger." The Minister nodded at each of them in turn.

"Do you have news for me?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore laughed shortly. "Getting right to business," he remarked, glancing at Professor McGonagall. The Headmistress ignored his look and sat behind her desk, clasping her hands in front of herself on the blotter. "Professor McGonagall tells me you've been having nightmares," Dumbledore stated.

"Yes," Harry answered slowly. "That isn't what you've come to talk about, is it? I could've put that in a letter," he said with a sneer, recalling Dumbledore's advice from days before.

"No," he responded. "But, I would like to hear about them. If I recall, most of your previous dreams held some significance. There may be some clues we can use."

Harry doubted the usefulness of any of the thoughts crowding his head at night, but he obliged, seeing no harm in telling the Minister what had happened. He began with the dream from Monday night and was surprised when the Headmistress excused herself briefly towards the end. Harry suspected she was crying, but he didn't see any trace of it when she reentered the room a minute later. When he finished, the Minister nodded for him to continue with the next one. After a deep breath, he talked about what it had been like to be on the other side of the office that Saturday afternoon.

As Harry described his dream, they each looked at him with varying degrees of horror and concern. By the time he finished, Hermione was gripping his hand so hard he was losing circulation and both the Headmistress and Minister were staring at him as if waiting for him to dissolve into a fit before them.

A minute after Harry stopped, the Minister asked, "Did you dream last night or the night before?"

Harry shook his head. "I took a couple of potions the other night and I…" He stopped, remembering what had happened. "I forgot to take anything last night, but I slept fine." Harry fought down a smile as he thought of why he'd fallen into that coma-like sleep just after making it back to his dorm room. If they could do that every night, he'd never have to worry about nightmares again.

Dumbledore nodded at this statement. "Perhaps they were just brought on by stress and will no longer bother you. If you have any more dreams, I would appreciate if you wrote them down in as much detail as you can remember and send them to me."

"What kind of information will I get in return?" Harry asked.

The Minister shifted in his chair and looked over at Professor McGonagall. She raised both eyebrows and motioned in Harry's direction, indicating her unwillingness to help with whatever he was going to do.

"I'm not sure how much I can say—"

"Oh, I don't believe this!" Harry stood from his chair abruptly and backed towards the door. "You can't have brought me in here to say nothing about what's going on."

"Sit down," Dumbledore said. His voice shook with barely controlled anger. "I'm not going to deal with your tantrums today."

"My tantrums?" Harry looked at Hermione who appeared just as irritated as he felt. "You know what? Fine." Harry sat again and crossed his arms. "Say whatever you're going to say and then leave me alone. If I'm going to live through this, I can see you can't be relied on."

"That is not true," Dumbledore countered. "As I was saying before you interrupted, a lot of the information the Auror Office has been uncovering is difficult to confirm, so I don't know how much I can say of material fact." He paused. "Bellatrix Lestrange has very nearly disappeared."

"Nearly?" Hermione asked.

"She's been in Knockturn Alley and there have been unconfirmed reports of her appearance in similar locations in France and elsewhere on the Continent."

"She's getting the potion ingredients," Harry stated. "But, how is it possible she'll be able to put it together?"

"There may be a measure of guesswork involved, but we suspect she is depending on someone else to help her get a copy of the exact instructions."

"But there's only one copy," Harry said. "Do you still have it, Professor McGonagall?"

The Headmistress nodded. "Someone attempted to break into my office Saturday."

"Through the Floo network or inside the school?" Harry asked.

"In the hall when we were with your mother," Hermione said, looking to the two adults for confirmation. "You remember when the alarm went off, Harry."

Dumbledore nodded at her statement. "Obviously, she is still in desperate need of that parchment if she hopes to complete what they've begun, and she is willing to use anyone to get what she needs. Unfortunately for her, her accomplice was not able to help her in that area."

"So, let me get this straight. Someone snuck in Saturday, before everything that happened in the dungeons, and no one noticed a Death Eater skulking around the school?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked to McGonagall again. She stared back in response. He turned back to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, I—" A knock sounded on the door and the Minister jumped at the sound. "I think we need to involve someone else in this conversation before it goes further down the wrong path." With a wave, Dumbledore opened the door to the office. Draco stepped in, eyes widening when he noticed Hermione and Harry sitting in the chairs before the desk. "Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore began, "good of you to join us."

Draco stepped further into the room, his eyes still on the two students in the chairs. "You've told them?"

"No, I believe it is up to you to deliver your news," Dumbledore said. "That is, if you intend to honor what we discussed the other day."

Draco nodded, his eyes briefly shifting to Hermione as she began to glare at him. "I don't know how much of this you've heard, but Aunt Bella was here Saturday. She was trying to get a number of things she'd left in the school."

Both Harry and Hermione moved for their wands at the same time. Draco's hand slipped into his pocket as he continued.

"I don't know what they were for, but she made me—"

Before he could finish the sentence, Harry pulled out his wand and Stunned the blonde boy. He stood from his chair, shaking off Dumbledore's hand as he aimed at Draco again. Draco woke slowly, jumping up when he saw the agitated teenager standing above him. When Hermione moved to stand next to Harry, Draco put up a Shield to protect himself until he fully recovered from Harry's attack.

Hermione shot Harry a look that plainly said _see, I was right_, before turning to eye Draco. "You've finally done something to surprise me, defying the laws of nature. You've proven it's possible to be a snake, rat and ass all at the same time."

"Attacking me wasn't necessary," Draco said.

"The hell it wasn't," Harry said. "You helped her, didn't you? And you want me to believe you aren't trying to get me killed?"

"I'm not!" Draco yelled. "She threatened to kill me if I didn't help her. We were alone. She would've gotten away with it." He rubbed at his neck absently and then pulled at the fabric of his robes, turning so they could see the bruising on his pale skin. "She dug her nails into my neck so deep she drew blood. Does that sound like I was willingly a part of whatever she's doing? I don't even know why she needed those things."

"What things?" Harry asked.

"She wanted me to come up here and get a parchment, I assume it was the one you stole," Draco said. "When I couldn't get in, she sent me to her office to get a charm bracelet out of her desk."

"A bracelet?"

"What were the charms?" Dumbledore asked.

"A notebook, a snake, a green crystal and some kind of cup." He paused. "It looked like a trophy."

"Was the cup gold?" Dumbledore asked. "Did it have an insignia on the front?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't know. I didn't get a good look at it. She just told me to make sure the cup and notebook were there before I left the office or she'd show me her disappointment in my lack of family loyalty," he said, his brief pout showing his distaste at the memory.

"I could kill you for helping her," Harry said.

"But you won't," Professor McGonagall said from behind her desk. "Albus." When he turned, she nodded in Draco's direction.

Taking her cue, the Minister looked into Draco's eyes. It took Harry a moment to realize he was going through the other boy's memories of what had happened that day. Several minutes later, he nodded, satisfied by what he had seen.

"So, what happens now?" Draco asked.

Hermione raised her wand. "What do you expect to happen to family of Death Eaters?"

"Miss Granger, please," Dumbledore said. "Draco and I spoke the other day. It seems he has taken my advice and decided to help you in whatever way you need."

Hermione turned a look on Dumbledore that spoke volumes on her opinion of that suggestion. Harry couldn't have agreed more. He didn't care what the Minister had seen, Draco had attempted to break into the office to steal the Key for Bellatrix after all Harry had suffered once he'd stolen it. He didn't believe she would really hurt her nephew if he hadn't complied. There had to be more to what had happened that day and was happening now. He hated to admit Hermione had been right, but the last thing they needed was the kind of help Draco could provide. Not that he'd let anyone know he thought that. Harry wanted to see what Draco would try to worm his way back into his trust. He had an idea it would prove interesting.

"It's fine that the Minister believes you can be trusted," Harry said. "Never mind that your aunt threatened you, I still think you'd like nothing more than to see me suffer for what happened to your father. I don't suppose you can provide any proof that you're here to help and nothing else."

"Besides that I could go to Azkaban for helping her?" Draco asked.

"That doesn't mean you'll help us," Hermione pointed out. The hand holding her wand shook. "A threat like that doesn't work if you think you can get away with what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything," Draco said. "Look, this is the only way I can prove it to you. Aunt Bella has started communicating with me—"

"What? How?" Harry asked. He stepped in front of Hermione before she could hex Draco. "How often?"

"Just the once," Draco said. "I can't tell you how, but I don't think it's something that could be traced."

"You'll tell me how if I ask," Dumbledore stated.

Draco didn't respond to this. "She's asking me for information about what you're doing," he said to Harry. "And the search for her. I can give her whatever information you think she should have. She'll have no way of knowing if it's true or not. She's not exactly in a position to come here and verify what's going on for herself."

"You can give her anything we wish her to know?" Dumbledore asked.

Hermione turned to him, a look of alarm on her face. Harry wanted to shout his own I told you so in her direction as she realized he'd been right. Dumbledore was willing to let Voldemort get back into a body to put an end to everything. Assuming they were both interpreting that thoughtful expression of his correctly.

"Anything," Draco said. "I can probably give you information from her too."

"Like her location?"

He shook his head. "I doubt Aunt Bella would tell me that. My mother doesn't even know where she is. She knows the information could be tortured out of us," he added.

"As could a number of other things," Hermione said. Harry noticed she'd finally lowered her wand and was now standing with her arms crossed, tapping her foot rapidly as she glared at Draco.

"You can accept my help or not," Draco said to Harry. "But I'm going to be giving the Minister any information I can from here on out. It's up to you whether you want to be included in that."

A long moment later, Harry said, "I want to know everything you find out. It can all help." The second he finished his statement, Harry felt his body fill with a cool rage that didn't belong to him. Turning to Hermione, he brushed her fingers away from the crystal around her neck and used his own wand to disable the charm.

"May I leave now?" Draco looked at everyone in the room as he asked this. Hermione looked as if she were going to say something then stopped herself as both the Minister and Headmistress agreed that Draco could go.

"I think I'll follow you," Harry said. Before he could get more than a couple of steps closer to the door, Professor McGonagall walked briskly from behind her desk.

"I'll escort you both outside, and you to Gryffindor Tower," she said to Harry. "I assume you'll be staying there all night," she added. McGonagall turned. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "I'd like to speak with the Minister alone for a few minutes if you don't mind."

"Not at all," McGonagall said. She turned to her open office door. Draco was halfway down the stairs and Harry was in the doorway, arms crossed as he waited. "Shall we?" She stepped past Harry and onto the stairs, knowing there wasn't too much danger in using herself as a physical barrier between the two boys.

The moment the door was closed, Hermione turned, the anger she'd been keeping at bay coming to the fore. "What do you think you're doing?"

Dumbledore didn't appear surprised by this outburst. He merely stared at her as she glared. "I believe you'll have to be more specific, Miss Granger."

Hermione advanced on Dumbledore, her arm shaking as she pointed a finger at him. "You know where these dreams are probably from. Why haven't you told him he's a Horcrux yet? You promised me you would as soon as you had the chance."

"What would you have me do?" Dumbledore responded coolly. "First explain that he is harboring a piece of Voldemort's soul and then preempt his next question with an explanation of how his death is possibly the only way to remove it?"

Hermione paled and lowered her shaking hand. "You said you weren't certain of that. You said he wouldn't have to die. You said—"

"I said being a Horcrux is not necessarily a _lasting_ death sentence," he remarked in a drawling voice, cutting her off. "You're a smart girl, Miss Granger. Surely you've thought of the possibilities to resolve this issue."

She rolled her eyes. He said _resolve this issue_ as if it were comparable to an Ancient Runes text that needed to be deciphered carefully.

"I have," Hermione said after a moment. "Harry would never consider it."

"If there is ever a time when he is out of options, he would not have to."

"In the meantime, you intend to help Draco serve Harry and Neville up to his aunt on a silver platter."

The Minister frowned at her choice of words. "I intend to do the best I can to resolve the situation with as little harm to all parties involved as possible. If there is a way to spare either of them from death, I shall consider it a first option."

Before Hermione could respond to this cold declaration, Dumbledore strode quickly to the fireplace and stepped into the green flames. Before he was gone, Hermione saw something in the bright blue eyes she knew she'd never forget. She saw indifference. A cool indifference to the lives she'd believed until then he wanted to save.


	7. Resolved

Neville fell back onto the bed, one arm over his face. Then he moaned loudly—in a decidedly non-masculine, overly dramatic fashion—immediately attracting the attention of his roommates.

Harry grinned, recognizing the look immediately. "What'd she do?"

"You," Neville said. At the silence that followed, he opened his eyes and scowled at Harry. "She's upset with me because I won't tell her…you know," he said. His eyes darted quickly to Seamus and Dean, both of whom weren't bothering to hide their interest in the conversation at hand.

"You won't tell her your part in it or mine?" Harry asked. He walked closer to Neville's bed, conscious that Seamus seemed to flinch when he passed his bed. He would deal with that later. "I really don't mind, you know. As long as you don't spread the story through the whole school."

"Fine time for you to tell me that," Neville responded. He sat up on his bed and rubbed at the side of his head. "She was so cold to me last night, I think I've still got frostbite on my left arm. I don't know how you put up with it."

"Hermione isn't cold like that," Harry responded.

Neville chuckled. "I'll bet she isn't. Certainly not now." The boys shared a quiet laugh over that before Neville's expression became serious again. "She's dead-set on us not spending any time alone, especially for defense lessons," he said softly.

Harry nodded to let him know it was okay to talk about that in front of their roommates. "You'd think she'd want you to brush up on your defense skills."

The other boy rolled his eyes. "She doesn't take issue with that. She wants to know why I'm going to you instead of a proper defense teacher and why I trust you to begin with."

"I think we'd all like to know the answer to that."

Harry turned in surprise. He'd figured Seamus would've gotten bored and left the room by now, pulling Dean behind him so they could gossip like they had been all week. Instead, they'd stayed and were both coming closer now, followed by Ron who looked scared at the prospect of breaking up what might turn into a monster fight. Ron brushed past Seamus to stand between Neville and Harry, facing the other two friends as Dean began to speak.

"I think it'd be fair if you told us what's going on. You obviously had no problem telling Neville," Dean said.

"A fat lot of good it's done him," Seamus added. "Is Lavender afraid you're going to turn out like him if you keep hanging out with a murderer?"

"He's not a—"

"It's all right, Ron." Harry turned to face both boys fully. Remembering Hermione's advice from the night before, he tried to remain calm and clear his mind of all the angry retorts that flashed through it. If he could handle the temptation to sneak downstairs to curse Draco in his sleep, a cranky roommate was no more difficult a challenge than flying on a calm day.

"I don't care what you've heard," Harry began. He stopped and watched as Seamus began to look irritated. "I don't care what people are saying, what anyone claims they saw or what you think I'm hiding. I'm not a murderer. I'm not dangerous or crazy or stupid enough to believe you aren't helping along the rumors by talking about my…sleep trouble," he said.

Harry took a breath, realizing the only way this is going to stop is if he finally told them. It didn't matter if Professor McGonagall or Dumbledore got upset with him. He needed some peace of mind. "Snape was into something he shouldn't have been, I got in the way at the wrong time and I almost died because of it. End of story," Harry said. "It didn't make the papers because Professor McGonagall and the Minister rightly assume people don't want their kids to go to school where a professor tried to kill his stepson."

"By lighting you on fire?" Dean asked. "That's what you said the other night."

"I—" Harry stopped, realizing he was about to tell them far more than he wanted anyone to know. He wanted them to think he was less crazy, not more. "I don't want to get into it. In case you can't tell, it's not an easy subject. Even talking about it can give me nightmares. But if you're curious, I don't think they got all of the fire damage out of Snape's office, though they tried. Take a look if you want proof that what happened down there was dangerous."

He looked back and forth between Dean and Seamus, hoping he could fool both of them with this next lie. "What happened was crazy, but I'm just a student like you. I'm not capable of that kind of destruction on my best day. He wanted to hurt me and I got lucky because my godfather, an Auror and Dumbledore took the worst of the beating he meant for me. We were all lucky we made it out alive. It wasn't the first time he tried to hurt me and that's why Hermione and I spent the better part of last week holed up in Professor McGonagall's office. I'd appreciate if you didn't spread that around the school, as tempted as you might be," Harry added, trusting the rest of the school would have the story before the weekend was over. He was tired of the other students treating him as if he were contagious. "They kept everything out of the paper for a reason and McGonagall is still unhappy with me for being in the dungeons at all. I do not need to provoke her any more."

He turned to Neville and offered him a lopsided smile. "I don't think it could help, but I'll talk to her if you want me to. Or get Hermione to do it. If Lavender is really worried, she could just watch us practice to know I'm not going to do anything to you."

"I've already told her you won't, but thanks for offering," Neville said. "Maybe that will get her off my back about it. I'm still not going to tell her the whole story."

"Which is what I'm still waiting to hear," Seamus said. "How was Professor Lestrange involved?" He turned to Neville. "And why do you need defense lessons from him if he almost got killed a week ago?"

"Because Snape had friends, like our former Potions professor, and they might try to come after Harry," Ron said. Harry turned to him in surprise. "An ugly business. We told him we'd help in case they do and he volunteered to practice defense with us. That satisfy you?"

"Yes," Dean answered, giving his friend a pointed look. "We'll let you get to it," he said, pulling Seamus towards the door. "I refuse to waste the rest of a reasonably warm Saturday in here arguing about this."

When they were clear of the door, Harry turned to Ron. "We're helping?"

Ron shrugged. "I figure it's easier to make sure you don't kill my friend if I'm in the room. Couldn't hurt to learn how you dodged Death Eaters for a few years with some free lessons either."

"Great," Harry said. "A believer and a freeloader. I really should start charging for these lessons."

Neville laughed. "You'd have more luck getting people to pay to hear you tell stories. That last one was something."

Harry shrugged. "It was mostly true. More or less."

"Minus the whole Death Eater conspiracy thing, but yeah. Sure," Neville said. "Care to tell me why you were so peeved last night you could barely talk? What happened with Dumbledore?"

Sighing, Harry sat on the bed, moving so Ron could sit on his other side. He looked down at his hands and said the words he'd been thinking all night. "I could kill Draco."  


* * *

  
Harry stared at Hermione as if she were growing a second head. She stopped reaching to take off the crystal necklace and looked at Harry, her expression unreadable. "I'm not sure if I'll be back in time to join the first lesson, but I'm sure you'll be fine. You've got plenty of experience teaching, after all."

"That's not what I'm reacting to and you know it. What do you mean, you're going to see me off?"

She pouted. "Harry." When his own expression became a blank stare, she said, "I know your mother spoke to you about this a few days ago. The Minister found a way to…sort of…I don't know, fix what you've done?" Hermione sounded as unsure of what she'd said as Harry did upon hearing it. "That's not really the correct term, but since your time travel was rather a unique experience, I doubt there really is a fixed way of saying—"

"Hermione, spit it out."

"We, your mother and I, are going to the Department of Mysteries. The Minister has arranged for you, well not you, but—" She stopped babbling as he crossed his arms, growing more impatient. "Someone in that department has figured out what they consider a safe way to leave us with only one Harry Potter," she said quietly. "They've spent the last couple of days putting tons of memories in storage and the Minister is allowing both of us a few minutes to say goodbye before the whole thing is done."

Harry refrained from asking why she was sounding as if the world were ending that afternoon rather than her association with another version of him. After the week they'd had, he knew it was better not to ask. "What exactly are they going to do?"

Hermione avoided his eyes and instead looked around the empty seventh floor hallway. "He didn't explain it well. Something about a veil and a mirror universe alternate something or other. We won't even be allowed to watch. Just drop by and hug and whatnot and that's it."

"Is whatnot a nice way of saying goodbye kiss?"

Taking in his suddenly quiet voice, Hermione turned to face him again. She drew close to Harry and turned his face towards her, her frown mirroring his. "You can't possibly be jealous. Not after Thursday. And last night," she said. "And tonight," she added, hoping her small smile would draw one from him. "Harry, a few days ago you were worried that I wasn't over him. You got your proof that I'm not in love with—that I only want you. It'll be like saying goodbye to another life. And no, it does not mean a goodbye kiss. It means I'll expect you to brush up on Cheering Charms because I'll be a little sad by the time I get back."

"Because you—"

"Because, whatever else went on, we were great friends for years and while I'm in love with _you_, I can't just forget everything that came before us as we are now," Hermione said. "You have no reason to be jealous." She leaned forward and kissed him softly, her hands slipping to cup his jaw. "You have no reason to be jealous." She punctuated this with another kiss, moving away slower this time. "You have no reason—" He cut off the faint whisper by pulling her into another kiss, interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Harry stopped himself from jumping as his mother stepped out of the Headmistress's office, pointedly looking at the wall above their heads. He removed his hands from Hermione's butt and approached his mother for a brief hug.

"How have you been coping?" Lily asked.

"I could ask you the same," Harry said.

She nodded. Neither of them needed to answer. They were both about the same as they had been when they'd last seen each other, only Harry had found a reason to smile in between the constant worrying.

"I hope today isn't too hard on you," he said. "Both of you," he whispered, turning to Hermione. She said nothing, but nodded at his mother before stepping past her and onto the stairs leading to the office.

Lily looked down at her son and ran one hand over his messy hair. "We'll both be fine," she said. "After today, it'll be easier for everyone to move on."

She looked away from him briefly as she said this and Harry began questioning what was proper at that moment. Comfort a mother who was losing her son or remind her that she had him? He wasn't all that bad, if Hermione's opinion was anything to go by. Harry settled for a brief squeeze on the shoulder which brought her eyes back to his face.

"Before I forget, your sister wrote to you," Lily said. She pulled the letter from her pocket and handed the thick mass of parchment to him. "She's been adding to it all week. She misses you so much she wants to know what you're doing every minute of the day and assumes you feel the same way."

"I'll be sure to write her back tonight. And tomorrow," he said, eyeing the pages.

"I'm going to send Hermione back with some memories of your time together. I think you should share as many of your sister's memories as you can," Lily said. "And don't worry about how you're going to view them. I'm going to stop in Diagon Alley on my way home and pick up a Pensieve and that broom you wanted."

"The Firebolt? Mum, you don't have to—"

"No, I want to get you something special." Lily leaned over and kissed her son on the forehead. She reached up to brush her lipstick from his skin, her fingers lingering over the angry red mark he wished she could wipe away as easily. "I think I'll get a couple of things for your sister too. She could use some cheering up." Lily sighed. "We're going back to Godric's Hollow tonight. I've kept her out of that house for too long and with Bathilda in the hospital, there's no reason for me stay away. None that your sister can see."

"Sirius—"

"Sirius has his own life," Lily said. "I have to get back to mine and you to yours." She paused and offered him a small smile. "When you write to your sister, think of writing to your old mum once in a while too, all right? We still need to get to know each other."

Harry was about to correct her about being old when she turned abruptly and hopped onto the staircase, leaving him standing alone in the hall.  


* * *

  
_Nothing like a girl to change her mind_, Neville thought as Lavender snuggled up to his side. She kissed his neck again and he shivered, about two overly-friendly hand gropes from reminding her that they couldn't do what he was thinking about in the middle of the common room. Never mind that he wasn't exactly minding the attention. He had somewhere else to be in a few minutes. If she would just stop putting her hand on his leg like that—

"Lavender." It was a warning. Not as menacing as he would've liked it to sound. Begging. It sounded more like begging and he supposed he was. Either to stop torturing him or get to whatever she wanted. She was only this pushy where he couldn't do anything about it when she had an agenda. After forcibly clearing the fog from his brain, it wasn't too difficult to figure out she'd finally realized this worked better than tears or the silent treatment.

"Yes, Nevvie-poo?" Her girlish purr had been soft, but Neville could swear he heard a snicker from somewhere behind him. When an identical laugh joined it, he knew it was the Weasley twins. That unfortunate nickname would haunt him forever, damn the girl.

Neville stood abruptly, unaffected when Lavender frowned at his vacated spot on the sofa. "I have to get downstairs. Walk with me?"

"I thought we could stay up here," she said, smiling up at him. One hand drifted to the thin strap of her shirt, which she proceeded to play with. The fabric shifted invitingly. "Or we could go somewhere more…private."

She'd be in trouble if he took her up on that offer. He'd be in more trouble if he did and then met Harry for practice anyway. Neville smiled at Lavender and crooked a finger, letting her think she'd gotten him distracted until they were on the other side of the portrait that guarded the Gryffindor common room.

"Care to tell me what that little performance was about?" Neville asked. He shoved her hands away as she reached for his chest. "Don't."

"Oh, you're holding out now?" Lavender asked.

With a small measure of satisfaction, Neville watched as the sex kitten turned into the sulky girl who'd left him frustrated the night before. "No, but I'd appreciate if you talked to me instead of groping to get your way."

She frowned and crossed her arms, not responding to his invitation to talk.

"Fine." Without another word to Lavender, he turned on his heel and headed towards the nearest staircase. A few seconds later, he heard two sets of footsteps behind him, catching up just before the stairs began to move. "You in on this too?" he asked over his shoulder.

"She's just worried about you," Parvati said. "Can you blame her?"

"I'd like to think both of you would trust that I'm not a total idiot," Neville said. He didn't turn to catch their expressions as he hopped from the stairs to the landing of another set that was just moving into place.

"No one thinks that," Parvati said.

"Funny, but that's not the impression I got." Neville turned to face both of them. He was startled to see that instead of looking merely irritated at him, Lavender did look genuinely worried. The look was unnerving and he couldn't handle that any more than he could the tears that may have been real the night before. He moved to go down the next flight of stairs, hoping he'd make it to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom so he could let out his frustration on a few objects in the room before anyone else arrived.

Lavender cleared her throat behind him and he paused on the next landing. "I'm sorry Neville, but I don't want you meeting up with Harry in some classroom alone. I don't trust him."

Exasperated, he turned to his girlfriend. "Professor Lupin will be there to supervise." When Lavender's frown deepened he said, "Fine! Come with me. We're just going to do defensive practice. You'll quickly get bored." Lavender smiled at this pronouncement. Neville knew he had scored by letting her think she had worn him down instead of Harry telling him to invite her earlier that morning.

He motioned to where Parvati stood next to her. "You're welcome to come too. She'll just tell you everything anyway. Besides, Ron will be there." Neville grinned, having just caught the beginnings of a soft blush on Parvati's face before he turned away from the girls and began making his way down to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class again.  


* * *

  
It was strange, this feeling. Strange but not unwelcome. Bellatrix wouldn't call it happiness, exactly. It was far too early in the plans to feel anything of the sort. But there was some…relief, a lifting of weight in knowing her master would be restored to his rightful place in short order.

She'd have to deal with that nephew of hers in due time, as well. She was torn between being appalled that he'd threatened not to give her information if she did not include him in her plans and gratified that Lucius and Narcissa had raised the boy with enough sense and cunning to make sure he wasn't left in the dark. She'd never tell him as much, but Draco had earned a small bit of her respect for that. The miracle of his finally managing to obtain the Key was enough for her to consider giving him some small role when Lord Voldemort returned—something even a boy of his skill could handle. Once he learned his place.

Bellatrix walked across the sparsely decorated parlor and stopped before the lifeless fireplace. Tentatively, her hand went out to touch the gleaming gold cup Draco had rescued from her desk at Hogwarts. It was subtle, but she was sure the cup pulsed with energy when it made contact with her skin, her master humming his approval at the progress she'd made so far.

With all she'd done, after all the time she had waited, there were merely days left until the potion was complete and the world as they all knew it would change. Drawing her fingers away from the cup and to her pursed lips, Bellatrix knew, in the end, the wait would be worth it.  


* * *

  
Harry ducked as Neville fired spell after spell at his head, missing him by inches as he made his way across the open floor of the classroom. He was much faster than the nervous fighter Harry had left behind, though Neville had a long way to go before Harry would be comfortable standing with him in front of Death Eaters, let alone Voldemort. When Neville paused to take a breath, Harry raised the wand in his hand and quickly disarmed him, putting an end to their grueling first duel.

Neville grinned as he crossed the room, one hand extended to help Harry from the floor. "Not bad. For a kid who's had a bit of luck the last few years."

Harry smiled back as he brushed the dust from his pants. "I picked up a few tricks along the way. I hope my letting you get a few in helped build your confidence. I'm not going to go so easy on you next time," Harry said.

Neville laughed. "That's not what you were saying when you flew into that wall."

Harry rubbed at the back of his head. He was probably going to feel that one for a few days. "You're right. Everyone can get in a good shot once in a while. The goal is to be consistent. To do it because of skill and not luck."

"And was I skilled? Before?" Neville asked, lowering his voice. He glanced quickly to where Lavender stood with Ron and Parvati, watching their every movement.

Harry hesitated and then nodded. "It took a few weeks, but you weren't completely hopeless," he said with a smile. Straightening his face, he added, "I am glad you're a stronger fighter than before. I have a bad feeling we'll be fighting Death Eaters before long."

"Do you really think the Minister is holding some information back from you?"

"I'd put money on it," Harry responded. He pulled his face into a fake smile as Professor Lupin walked towards them. "I intend to find out what it is soon, though," Harry added, just before Lupin reached them. He held out the wand in his hand. "Thanks for letting me borrow yours."

Lupin accepted the wand with a smile. "I admit, you had me worried when you asked to borrow it. Especially after you said you'd have trouble fighting Neville with yours. I'm glad to be getting it back in one piece."

"And I'm glad to get Neville back in one piece," Lavender added, coming up behind him. Brushing past the professor, she moved to Neville's side, slipping her arm around his. "You were fantastic."

"I know," Neville. "Now you can stop worrying that Harry's going to blow me to bits one day."

Blushing lightly, she frowned at his words. "You can't say I don't have reason to be worried. After everything—"

"Stop. Please," Neville said. "If he was going to hurt me, he could've smothered me in my sleep if he wanted to."

"Your other roommates would defend you," Lavender stated.

"She must not know what your socks smells like," Ron said. Neville threw a half-hearted punch in his direction that connected with his arm lightly. "If you're so afraid Harry's going to hurt Neville, join in the practice next time. I'll duel with Neville and you can put the fear of the vengeful girlfriend into Harry."

"I would not be vengeful if something happened. If it was an accident," Lavender added.

"Right," Ron said. "I know there are curses that break things off so they'll never grow back. And I know you've got at least one memorized."

"Parvati!"

The other girl shrugged and smiled. "He asked if you could defend yourself. That is defense, of a sort. Half the girls at Hogwarts know a curse the boys here should be very afraid of."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any of this," Professor Lupin said. With a quick wave of his wand, he finished putting the desks and chairs back into their customary places. "Now, if I hear one of you is missing parts in the next few weeks, I can't be quite as politic about it."

"None of us will be cursing anyone," Harry assured him.

"Speak for yourself," Lavender whispered. She chuckled softly and Neville shook her arm from his. "What?"

"You need to stop," he said softly. "I know you're not kidding. You can't keep threatening my friend like that."

"I don't know why you can just accept it as concern for you," she said. When Neville stared at her silently, she pulled her lips into a pout and turned a wary gaze on Harry. He took that as his cue to leave.

"Let me know when you're ready to go again, Neville," Harry said as he walked towards the door. "I've got to arrange things around my Quidditch schedule."

Just as Harry reached the door, it was opened from the outside. An older woman stepped inside and immediately frowned down at him. The bulk of her gray hair was pulled back into a severe bun, with a few small wisps left to float around her face as she moved forward. Harry didn't know whether to frown or laugh as Augusta Longbottom stepped further into the room, nodded once at him and then moved to where her grandson and his friends stood. Harry stopped at the door to listen to the exchange.

"I received your letter not too long ago, Miss Brown. Who exactly are you afraid is going to hurt my grandson? Neville, why aren't you listening to her?" Harry resisted the urge to turn around and see the expression on Neville's face. He was sure he'd hear all about it from his roommate later.

"If McGonagall cannot keep order at this school, I may be forced to educate you at home myself. Or take up a position at the school," Augusta finished.

Before he was forced to defend himself against whatever Lavender had written, Harry quickly ducked out of the classroom door and up the nearest set of stairs, not slowing until he reached the painting that guarded Gryffindor Tower. Hermione was leaning against the wall next to the Fat Lady, wiping at her eyes with the bottom of her shirt. A large box was next to her feet.

He pulled her into his arms without asking questions, not even sure if he'd want the answers if he were brave enough to ask. After a few minutes of silent weeping, Hermione pulled back and looked into his eyes.

"You do know I love _you_. I just didn't think saying goodbye would be this hard," she said, her voice breaking on the last word.

Harry said nothing as she pulled him down for a kiss. He was just glad she wasn't going to leave him alone for the memory of something she'd never have again.


	8. Inner Circle

**Twenty Muggles Die In Attacks Throughout Bedford. Ministry Promises Answers Soon.** Harry read the _Daily Prophet_ headline again, slower the second time, hoping another read would somehow erase what he felt was his own history repeating itself. There had been numerous attacks on Muggles over the weekend, but the one that had happened late Monday night was far more brutal than the previous attacks. Unsuspecting Muggles had been attacked on the street, their beheaded and mangled bodies left in plain view for the frightened and confused local police to clean up.

It was more vile than anything Harry could remember reading about. The lack of communication from Dumbledore since their conference the previous Friday had done nothing to quell the rising suspicions about what was happening outside Hogwarts. The Death Eaters were getting more bold in their attacks and Harry felt sure it was because they were becoming more secure in their position—and that of their leader.

When Draco walked into the mostly empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Harry felt Hermione stiffen next to him and shared the small amount of animosity he could feel coming from her. The Slytherin was still putting on the show of friendship he'd begun days before, but Harry knew that secret smug smile he let show every so often was coming from somewhere, from something he'd done to help his aunt. McGonagall had quickly dismissed the suggestion that Draco was working with Dumbledore against them, but hadn't denied that he'd been asked to pass on information Harry wouldn't be comfortable with Bellatrix possessing. Then she'd clammed up as well, forcing Harry to rethink his association with the one adult ally he'd come to rely on to be truthful with him.

As Draco approached him, an unnaturally friendly smile taking over his face, Harry knew he'd have to be on his guard more than ever. It wasn't just his and Neville's lives he had to think about now. If Voldemort was able to come back and organize the followers who were currently spreading chaos around Britain, with most of the Wizarding world unaware, the scale of the war would be too huge for even the Ministry to contain. Assuming, that is, they wanted Voldemort and his followers contained. Harry couldn't imagine why they wouldn't, but then, he had never pretended to fully understand how or why Dumbledore operated the way he did. He just wanted to make it through the entire mess alive.

"Can we help you with something?" Hermione asked. Her tone was polite enough, it might even be mistaken for nice by someone who hadn't heard the language she'd been using to describe Draco the night before. Harry had and knew she was a few short comments from attempting to hex Draco, resulting detention or no. She trusted him even less than Harry, if that was possible, and grew more jumpy every time he came within a few feet of her boyfriend. Harry would've found her defensiveness comforting if it didn't give the overall impression that he couldn't defend himself against Draco if he needed to.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, Harry," Draco said, ignoring Hermione. "When we talked yesterday, you were a little quiet."

"I have nothing to say to you," Harry said simply. He put on his own fake smile. "Unless you have some news of your…family to share with me."

"I wish she'd told me something," Draco said. "She hasn't talked to me since Friday."

"How exactly is she talking to you?" Hermione asked. Harry could feel her anger growing and took her hand in his. He shifted closer to her as they leaned against Professor Lupin's desk.

"Don't worry about that."

"How can we not worry about it?" Harry asked. "You want me to trust you, you need to give me a real reason. After all the time we've been friends, you can't expect me to overlook your betrayal and believe you want to go back to the way things used to be." Draco flinched at the word betrayal and Harry fought the urge to smile. A few more comments like that and the little faker would crack and show his true self.

The smile gone, Draco studied Harry's face for a long moment, his eyes lingering on the lightening bolt scar. "We haven't been close for a long while now and I think you know why," Draco said. He didn't look directly at Hermione as he said this; Harry winced when she squeezed his fingers. "I don't know what you want from me. You want me to give you a reason to trust me, but I need a reason to trust you again," he said. "You claim you weren't responsible for what happened to my father, but you aren't exactly defending me to Dumbledore. I'm not responsible for what he did. I'm not responsible for Aunt Bella. Just like no one is blaming you for what your stepfather did."

Harry's eyes narrowed at that, but he didn't respond, preferring to let Draco expose his motives, if that was where this was headed. He had half a mind to stop him as the whole thing was sounding more ridiculous by the minute. But, it was almost amusing these days to see just how people who wanted his trust went about proving they should have it. If Dumbledore's reasons involved a never ending search for Horcruxes and the fulfillment of an ominous prophecy, whatever Malfoy had to say might prove equally interesting.

"I don't see why you and I can't take ourselves out of whatever they were up to and whatever Aunt Bella is doing now," Draco said to Harry's surprise. "We don't have to be involved. I'm sure if you take yourself out of whatever's going on, Dumbledore won't force me to spy on her and then maybe we can talk about being friends again. In spite of all that's happened."

"Whatever's going on?" Harry asked. "Don't tell me your dear aunt still hasn't explained things to you. Or Dumbledore."

"Not in so many words," Draco replied. "I know the Key is important, but I was never told why they wanted it."

Harry lifted his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and threw it at Draco. He waited for the other boy to scan the front page. "You may not have known everything, but you must know your father was a Death Eater. That's their doing." Draco's eyes lifted from the page to study Harry's face again. "You're not naive," Harry said. "It may not be common knowledge, but it can't be a secret in your own house."

"What does that have to do with—?"

"With a few dozen people getting hurt or killed the past few days? Before Professor Snape was killed, your father arranged for a few Death Eaters to be broken out of Azkaban," Harry said. He waved down Draco's pending interruption. "I don't know why Dumbledore only charged him with trying to kill me, but the breakout was in the _Prophet_ a couple of weeks ago. They—your aunt, your father and Snape—had been working to bring Voldemort back."

Harry was surprised to see Draco flinch at the name the same way Ron and most others did. Belatedly, he remembered that very few people referred to him as anything but the Dark Lord, even his own followers.

"That's not possible," Draco said. "He's been gone since—"

"Since he tried to kill Neville," Harry said. "I'm not going to get into the details of why, but he's going to do it again, once they're able to bring him back into a body." He motioned to the paper Draco held. "These kinds of killings on Muggles are going to spread everywhere, with Muggle-borns and so-called blood traitors added to the numbers. Voldemort is going to try to kill Neville again and maybe me and Dumbledore and anyone else who'd stand against him."

Harry frowned, remembering the picture he'd been shown of the members of the first Order of the Phoenix, the majority of whom had been dead within months of the picture being taken. He took a deep breath and prepared to say something to Draco he never would've imagined saying before.

"I don't know if it even matters to you. You're Pure-blood and two members of your family are high in Voldemort's inner circle. But, this matters to me. I can't sit by and let him come back and kill all these people. I can't watch him try to take over the Wizarding world and turn me and people like me into slaves or kill us all off." Hermione squeezed Harry's hand and his voice rose. "I'm not going to stand by and watch while he and everyone who supports him destroy everything we know and love. This is the family legacy your aunt wants you to protect."

Steeling himself, he looked into Draco's eyes and added, "I'm not going to be friends with someone who isn't firmly on my side. Dumbledore shouldn't have to force you to spy and I shouldn't have to feel I need to watch my back whenever you're around," Harry said. "You want to know why I continue questioning whether we can be friends? Now you know everything you need to know. Either you're on my side or you aren't. And if you're not, not only will I not care if you get locked up for helping your aunt, when it comes down to a battle, I will not spare you from whatever I have to do to protect myself and my friends." His voice was quiet now, but the words rang with a powerful clarity that bespoke the conviction Harry felt.

"I don't expect you to make a decision now, but you need to do it soon," Harry said. "There's not much that can be said for being on the side of Death Eaters, but standing in the middle is just as bad in my book. Besides, you're not the type to not have an opinion one way or the other. I expect we'll know how you really feel soon enough." When Harry finished, he was gratified to see that Draco looked shaken by all he said, though he masked his surprise quickly. He could practically see the other boy thinking through his words, attempting to come up with some response on the spot to the information he'd been given. After a minute, Draco merely nodded, his eyes dropping briefly.

"I'm going to talk to my aunt again later," Draco said. "If you want to know what side I'm on, you'll find out soon enough." He turned to walk away and then stopped, turning back to Harry. "Thank you for being honest with me. It's sad that you feel like you have to question my loyalty to my friends, but—"

"I'm not questioning that," Harry said, cutting him off. "But, as you said, we haven't been close for a while. Your loyalty is divided, mine isn't. You heard what I have to say about it. I'm not going to change my mind. It's up to you to decide what you stand for and what you'll stand against."

Before Draco could counter this with another defense of his loyalty or something similar, voices were heard in the hall just before Neville, Ron, Lavender and Parvati walked into the room, loudly talking and laughing. The smiles quickly dropped as they spotted Draco with Harry and Hermione, Neville scowling the most as he slipped his hand into his pocket. Quickly, Draco slipped out of the room, leaving behind a tension Harry knew he'd feel until his so-called friend exposed the real person behind that cool mask. He only hoped Draco could see past the way he'd been raised enough to even consider the other side. He couldn't imagine having to kill someone again, but if he had to, he'd have no trouble taking out a threat closer to him than Snape had ever been.

"What was he doing here?" Neville asked.

"He's been around for days," Lavender said. "Haven't you noticed?" She glanced at Harry. "Something else you haven't told us? This is the person whose word you trust?" she asked Neville.

"Would you just stop it?" Hermione said. She stood from the desk and came forward, pointing a finger at Lavender. "I'm sick of you and this stupid attitude where Harry is concerned. He's almost been killed by a member of Draco's family and his aunt is aiming to try it again and you want to know if Draco and Harry have some sort of secret friendship going? I always suspected you might be a little simple since you never have anything more complicated to talk about than which lipstick goes better with your favorite shirt, but I never thought you'd try to prove it to me."

"Now, hold on," Parvati started.

"No!" Hermione said. "I don't know how much Neville has told you, but this is a life or death situation. I don't care if you trust Harry or not, but you will not get in the way if he wants to help Neville. He's my friend too and dealing with your silliness is the last thing he needs if he's going to beat this."

"Beat what?" Lavender asked. Her eyes had filled with tears and her hands began shaking; her eyes drifted to Neville. "Everyone knows what's going on but me and I'm tired of being left in the dark." Absently, she brushed Hermione's hand down, turning to face her boyfriend fully as her tears began falling. "I'm not going to do it anymore. I'm not going to write to your grandmother. I'm not going to question what's going on with you and Harry. I'm not going to ask Ron or anyone else what you should've told me ages ago. What am I going to do is go upstairs and wait until you decide I'm important enough to be let it on the big secret." She held up a hand before he could speak. "Until then, I don't want you to say anything else to me."

Lavender turned back to Hermione. "It's nice that you finally told me what you really think of me. I always suspected you thought you were better than us, not just smarter, but I thought you'd prove me wrong one day." She turned and walked from the room. Parvati looked around at them, a mixture of anxiousness and confusion on her face. After a hesitant glance at Ron and Neville, she quickly followed Lavender.

Hermione turned to Neville, her anger from moments before gone. "I'm sorry, Neville. If I'd known she was going to react that way—"

"No, Hermione. Don't worry about it," Neville said. "That's been coming for days. You know she actually told Gran I was deliberately getting into a life-threatening situation or some such rubbish? I don't even know if I can tell her what's going on with You-Know-Who if she's going to act this nutty over something as small as Harry and I working together."

"Still, I'm sorry," Hermione said again. "I doubt she'd want to, but I can talk to her if you want me to."

"I'd much rather practice," Neville said. "Let Parvati deal with her for now. I have a lot to think about with that girl and it'll go better if I can take a few swings at Harry in the meantime," he said with a small smile.

"You forget, I'm not going easy on you anymore. You may need Ron to protect you once I really get warmed up," Harry said.

"Aw, big words from someone who took a pretty hefty spill yesterday," Neville remarked.

Harry grinned as he remembered the lucky jinx Neville had gotten in. "Don't worry about me. Tonight, the real defense practice begins."

A short time later, Professor Lupin arrived and practice began in earnest, Neville and Harry challenging each other in the center of the room while Ron and Hermione dueled on the side. Harry found his focus slipping every few minutes as he thought over what he'd said to Draco. His speech had been unplanned but had come out more organized and honest that he might have achieved if he'd thought about it overmuch. There really wasn't much more to be said. If Draco was to be…well, not trusted, but at least considered as a possible source of information, he couldn't be on the fence about what his aunt was up to. Too many lives depended on what happened over the next few weeks or months.

Before he knew what was happening, Harry was flat on his back, pain radiating through his head from where it had connected with the floor. He grimaced as Neville helped him up.

"Even I know you were distracted on that one," Neville said. "Want to go again or talk about it?"

Harry shook his head, wincing at the small amount of pain. He'd be visiting Madam Pomfrey again before the night was over. "I'd rather just watch these two," he said, motioning to Ron and Hermione.

They'd begun circling each other on the side of the room, moving wider as Neville and Harry propped themselves against the front desk with Professor Lupin. Hermione was getting better with her hexes and defensive spells, more confident than he'd ever seen her since they'd decided to have the practices every day. After the first couple of days, Harry had stopped giving her tips, preferring instead to watch her natural fighting style emerge. Her confidence had carried over outside the nighttime practices, a fact which Harry had begun enjoying. It wasn't having quite the same affect on everyone else, if her earlier conversation with Lavender was taken into consideration.

Ron had been putting on a good show of "letting" Hermione win, but Harry could tell how much it bothered him that she beat him every day, faster each time. It brought back a flood of memories of their Dumbledore's Army meetings, particularly when Fred and George started taking bets on whether Ron would lose to Hermione or their sister Ginny. Soon, the ongoing bet became how quickly it would happen, even when Ron had become a stronger fighter. Watching Hermione smile as she concentrated on her next spell, Harry grinned in response, knowing she'd fell him as easily as if she'd been practicing for months.

"It's Draco," Harry said to Neville. He looked at the other boy briefly to make sure he was paying attention. "Before you got here, I finally told him a little bit about what's going on and that he had to make a choice between our side or his family."

"That sounds pretty intense," Neville said. "If he tells you he's chosen us, how will you know to believe him?" Neville and Harry winced in unison as Hermione hit Ron with a Stinging Hex.

"Don't know," Harry replied. "I suppose I could dose him with a truth serum every time I see him." Harry grinned when Professor Lupin turned to eye him, just catching the end of his sentence. "I have a feeling that would be frowned upon," Harry said, nodding at his professor. "Professor McGonagall would skin me alive if I ever tried it."

"From what you've told me, wouldn't someone else be more likely to do that? And enjoy it immensely?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't doubt that she won't try at least once before this whole thing is over with."

"One of these days," Lupin said, "You're going to have to tell me the rest of the story about what's happening. I understand that your former professor is spearheading a return for Voldemort, but I don't get why you and Neville are connected to it all."

Harry licked his lips slowly, contemplating how much he could tell the werewolf without inspiring the same kind of looks he'd been getting from his classmates for longer than he cared to remember. "How about if I tell you more about it at another time?" Harry asked. "It'll be a long talk. Maybe this weekend. Definitely not a school night. I think I ought to give you an opportunity to get yourself a stiff drink beforehand."

Neville laughed. "He'll need more than one."

"Is that right?" Lupin asked. "Now I'm really looking forward to it."

A scream from the center of the room drew their attention and they all turned in time to see Hermione blow Ron off his feet. His wand flew out of his hand and he slid on his back across the floor, stopping a foot before the desk. Laughing, Hermione jogged over and helped Ron up.

"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" she asked.

"You know bloody well it did," he said, his mouth pulling into a small pout. He rubbed at the back of his head and neck with one hand. "I have no idea where you get the strength to hurl anyone like that, with the way you used to do Shields and other simple spells."

"Used to," Hermione retorted. "And it's not as if I have to pick you up and actually throw you. It's a matter of focus, really." She grinned at him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Too bad for you, you don't really have the mental strength to fight me. Not a fair fight, I'm afraid."

"What?" Ron asked. His ears turned red at the tips and Harry groped in his pocket for his wand, not sure if Ron was merely upset enough to argue or if he was about to show Hermione a little payback. "Just because I don't want to hurt a girl—"

"Oh, right!" Hermione said. When she laughed again, Ron's face began turning a deep shade of red. "If you could beat me, you would, if only to rub it in my face. Just admit you can't beat a girl and I'll try to go easier on you next time."

"I can beat a girl, I just don't want Harry coming after me if you get hurt," Ron said, jabbing a finger in Harry's direction. Harry was glad he didn't turn at that moment or he'd have seen his roommates laughing behind their hands as they watched the exchange. Harry could hardly believe it, but it was like watching them as he had for years, bickering over the smallest thing and enjoying every minute of it, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

"Harry won't come after you because you'll never beat me. You can't bring yourself to confront a girl about anything, let alone defend yourself against one," Hermione said.

"What? Yes, I—"

"You can't even ask Parvati out and the girl's been drooling over you for nearly a year. You only asked her to the Yule Ball because your best friend was going with her best friend," Hermione said, motioning towards Neville. "Don't think she doesn't know that. She likes you in spite of it. Says you're funny and the two of you had a great time. She even said she thinks you're pretty cute." Hermione paused, restraining a laugh as Ron looked away from her in embarrassment. "I guess she meant when you're not whining and making excuses about a girl beating you."

Ron's eyes shot up. He took several deep breaths, his nostrils flaring warningly. He turned towards the desk. "Harry, you better get your girlfriend before she lands herself in trouble." With one last glare at Hermione, Ron walked across the room to get his wand.

"Aw, whatever you say, Ronald," Hermione called to him as he left. "Just let me know when you're ready and I'll take it slow for you." The slam of the classroom door was her only response. Hermione turned back to the three wizards behind her, all of whom were laughing uncontrollably as she walked closer and into Harry's arms.

"You really shouldn't tease him like that," Harry said. "He may not look it, but he's pretty sensitive about some things."

Hermione kissed him briefly, still laughing. "I'm sorry, but he was kind of asking for it. You heard what he said to me at breakfast about wearing protective padding the next time we duel. Who was he kidding?"

"It's too bad I can't be here tomorrow," Lupin said. "I'm kind of looking forward to the rematch. I have a feeling it'll get interesting."

"Why can't you be here?" Neville asked.

"The first night of the full moon is tomorrow night, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "I'd almost forgotten it."

Alarmed, Lupin looked at the faces of all three students, searching for the fear and shock he'd come to expect when people knew about his condition. "Who told you?"

"Harry," Hermione responded immediately.

Lupin's eyes narrowed on the boy next to him. "And how did you find out? I know Professor McGonagall didn't announce that to any of the other students and I'm fairly certain your mother wouldn't have discussed it with you."

"I…remember when I said I owe you a long talk this weekend about what's going on and my part in it?" Harry asked. "The story is…complicated. Let's just say I know a lot about quite a few people and the whole thing is connected. But don't worry, none of us will tell people your secret."

"Do Ron, Lavender and Parvati know?" Lupin asked.

"I've told Ron everything, but Lavender…" Neville sighed. "I haven't told her anything of Harry's story. If I do, I can leave out the details about you," he added.

"I'd appreciate that," Lupin said. "You'll have an Auror at the school in the morning to teach my classes and she's agreed to supervise your practices. She'll probably offer you better tips than I could. After watching you the past few days, I'm starting to wonder if anyone but an Auror could teach you anything."

Harry grinned. "You're doing fine."

Hermione giggled and snuggled closer in his arms. "Harry, you know the only reason Professor McGonagall has him supervising is because it would look strange if there wasn't a teacher here. No offense, Professor Lupin, but it's not as if Harry doesn't have the experience to do this."

"I'm going to assume that's more of the long story I'll be hearing later, then?"

Harry nodded in response to his question.

"Fine. Would you mind putting the desks and chairs back?" Lupin asked. "I've still got some packing to do before my portkey activates and I don't want to miss it. Dumbledore has arranged for the use of a house in the mountains that's supposed to be pretty secure. Isolated, but that's to be expected."

"I suppose anything's better than the Shrieking Shack," Harry said, earning himself another long look from his professor.

"Yes," Lupin said, "Our conversation is going to be quite interesting." Waving goodbye to the students, he picked up his wand and ducked out of the classroom, followed quickly by Neville.

"Don't let it bother you," Hermione said Lupin was gone.

"Hmm?"

"Draco, don't let the talk you had earlier bother you," she repeated. One hand drifted to the crystal hanging around her neck. "I know it's weighing on you, but you had to say something to him. It was a sight calmer than I might have managed, but it had to be done."

"I know," Harry said, "but that doesn't make it any easier to think about. I never wanted him to know that what she's doing might eventually get both me and Neville killed, but I had to do it. If I was ever in a position close to his, I would want all the facts so I could make an honest decision about what I wanted to do." Harry sighed. "I know it's only Draco Malfoy, but it wouldn't be fair to ask anyone to choose without knowing all of the possible consequences. It's going to affect the rest of his life—and mine. I couldn't live with myself if I'd asked him to make it without the truth."

Hermione stiffened in his arms. Her eyes drifted down as Harry pushed her away so he could look at her face. Her gaze was glued to the space around her feet. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do this," she said. Reminded of Lavender's ultimatum, Harry had to force himself not to panic, suddenly sure Hermione would tell him she couldn't be involved with him knowing the odds against his living if Bellatrix succeeded in getting Voldemort back into human form. This whole situation could be worse—and less hopeful—than the curse Snape had ordered put on him, but Harry wanted to believe Hermione was maintaining her positive outlook. He'd known something was bothering her over the past week or so, but he'd thought it had been about his undeclared feelings, not any real reluctance on her part.

"Whatever you're worried about, don't," Hermione said. "It's not that."

"It's not what?"

"It's not something you can easily guess," Hermione responded, her voice thick. When she looked up at Harry again, her eyes were filled with tears. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. I was hoping…to tell the truth, I don't really know. Maybe I was hoping to be wrong about something that seems so obvious. I was thinking there's an easy way out of this, that it doesn't seem as hopeless as I keep imagining. But then, if that was the case, Dumbledore would've told you straight out instead of telling me he'd try to look for other answers and never really coming up with anything."

_Dumbledore? That's what she's crying over?_ "Slow down, Hermione. Tell me what the problem is," Harry said. "It can't be that bad."

"It is, Harry. It's the worst possible thing you can imagine," she said. She blinked rapidly and tears spilled down her face. "Do you remember the last day you were in the hospital, when Dumbledore was telling us about someone breaking into Professor Lestrange's office and how she could bring You-Know-Who back?"

"I remember," he said slowly.

"He was explaining to us about the Horcruxes and he said you and Neville have a connection to them no one else has," Hermione said.

"You got very upset," Harry said, recalling how she'd screamed out during the explanation. "Is this why you're upset? Because you don't think we'll find them all? If there are only three—"

"There are only three," Hermione said. "One is that cup Draco was telling us about. Dumbledore thinks it might have belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. The other two were accidents."

"Accidents? How is that even possible?"

Hermione swallowed hard. "Apparently, he'd split his soul so often, it truly was unstable." She closed her eyes and tears fell faster from beneath the lids. Harry pulled her to him as she sobbed, frightened of whatever she'd been holding back all this time if it could make her lose control like this. "Dumbledore said he wanted to tell you that day," she whispered. "He didn't because of how I reacted. That's what he says, anyway." She stood straight again and looked Harry in the eyes. Her gaze drifted to the scar on his forehead and she moved her fingers over it, tracing the bright red mark as she said, "You're a Horcrux, Harry."

He blinked hard, sure he'd misheard her.

"You and Neville. He killed your parents the same way, in the t-time you left and in our past. Your mother protected you in a way that had never been done before and the spell rebounded on Voldemort." Hermione looked back into his eyes again and let her hand drop to his shoulder. "It was a kind of powerful ancient magic that protected you from the curse, but the portion of his soul that had been in his body connected to the only living being in that room when his body was gone."

"That doesn't make any sense, that doesn't…" Harry let his voice fade out as he thought of all the strange happenings that had taken place since he'd started at Hogwarts. The pain he felt any time Voldemort was near him, the connection between their wands, the ease with which he felt Voldemort's feelings or shared his thoughts. Something inside him went cold. There had to be another explanation than…being a vessel for the man who would see him dead.

"Obviously, he can't use it to hurt you because he's not even aware of what he's done," Hermione said. "Or he wasn't when he was inside that snake the other week. If Professor Lestrange knew—"

"She'd use it against us somehow," Harry finished, his voice low.

"She'd kill you without hesitating is my guess. That's the crux of the problem, Harry," Hermione said. "He can't truly be gone for good as long as you and Neville protect pieces of his soul, even unknowingly."

"So, if something were to happen to me now, would that mean the piece of Voldemort's soul inside me could take over my body?" Harry asked. "It sounds like that's what you're saying. If Bellatrix puts the portion of soul she has into a body right now and Neville and I destroy it, that leaves the two pieces we have. But, if we live however long and then die, does that mean he won't die and could stay alive within us? If Dumbledore isn't sure, wouldn't someone have to kill us to find out?"

"I don't know how that would work out, but I didn't like the way he was talking about destroying the Horcruxes," Hermione said. "He told me he's looking for a way to get it out of you that wouldn't kill you, but after the way he spoke to me the other day—"

"When we left you in Professor McGonagall's office?"

Hermione nodded. "I don't know that he is looking for a way to save you. I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you said he might be setting you up. I thought Dumbledore, of all people, would want to save every life he could. He's the Minister of Magic, isn't his job to protect everyone?"

"Maybe he thinks sacrificing two people is worth it if Voldemort can never come to power again. Can you imagine if it were to happen, if Neville or I died and instead of our bodies blowing apart the way Voldemort's did, he could just take over? Take over our lives until he could rise up again?"

"Like a Muggle horror movie," Hermione said, shuddering at the thought.

"Don't tell him you've told me," Harry said suddenly. "I want to see just what kind of lies he'll feed me before I'm able to squeeze the truth out of him."

"He's never lied, just told you parts of the truth," Hermione said. "That's not the only thing that has me worried. What if he told Draco to tell this to his aunt? You said You-Know-Who only heard a part of the prophecy, right? If she were to learn this, she might think killing the two of you is the best way to fulfill the prophecy. In a way, it would be the same thing. Neither can live while the other survives. The portion of soul she has is safe, but either of you could destroy the one you have. Or die along with it. Then she could bring him back without having to worry about either of you being a threat."

"That makes sense," Harry said. "I still want to hear more about it from Dumbledore, though. There's obviously more to this than what he's told either of us and what you might have guessed. I wonder if Professor McGonagall is willing to help me anymore."

"What do you mean? Of course she is," Hermione stated. "She doesn't know about this part of it, but I'm sure she'd help."

"Are you sure of any of the adults anymore?" Harry asked. "Right now I'm only sure of Professor Lupin, my mum and Sirius and that's only because he hasn't gotten to them yet."

"She can still be trusted," Hermione stated firmly. "I can't imagine she'd suddenly trust him wholeheartedly after the disaster that happened the other week…"

The rest of what she said was lost to Draco as he moved away from the classroom door, a contemplative smile on his pale face. So much to think about. He would definitely write to his aunt once he got downstairs and hopefully know how to proceed from her response. Choosing Dumbledore and everyone doing his bidding was not the best option, but if this didn't earn him her respect and his rightful place as her equal, his choice would be clear. Aunt Bella couldn't keep him sidelined for long. Either she elevated his position or got out of his way. If Voldemort was going to change the order of the Wizarding world soon, there would only be a select number of places at the top. Draco planned to make sure he'd secured one of them.


	9. New Understanding

Hermione slammed a book onto the table, drawing looks from students at several tables as the sound echoed through that part of the library. "Is it me or do they pile up homework on the weekends?" she asked as she sat down.

Harry nodded as he went back to the essay he'd been writing for Potions. "You know our professors love nothing more than keeping us busy."

Ron and Neville grunted their agreement, both poring over the same spell book as they researched a Charms essay.

"It's sadistic," Hermione remarked in a softer voice. She picked up her Arithmancy homework and scanned the four foot length of parchment. "Someone should complain."

Harry put down his quill and stared at her. "I think all of our professors would go into some type of shock if you, of all people, complained about the amount of homework we're getting." He motioned to her essay. "You usually do more than what's required."

"I'm not saying I can't handle it," Hermione said, putting the parchment back onto the table. "I'd just rather be doing something else with my weekend. You know, if we hadn't gotten so much homework, I could be making Ron cry right now instead of adding another six inches to this essay. I'd much rather be at defense practice."

Harry laughed before he could stop himself, spurred on by the murderous look Ron gave Hermione across the table.

"For the last time," he began, "I was not crying."

"Neville, what do you call it when someone's eyes water and they start muttering something about their mother?" Hermione smiled as she said this, ducking when Ron picked up his bottle of quill ink and hurled it at her head. She grinned as the bottle landed on the floor and then Summoned it from where it had landed, placing it next to her book. "You're lucky that wasn't open or didn't break."

"No, you're lucky—"

"Stop it, both of you, or Madam Pince is going to kick us out," Harry said. "Do Neville and I have to separate you?"

Hermione shook her head. She went back to her homework, just missing the rude hand gesture Ron sent her way. Harry gave him a stern look before going back to his own essay. Several minutes passed before they were interrupted again by someone clearing their throat near the table. Everyone stopped writing and looked up, each experiencing varying levels of surprise. Several pairs of eyes shot over to Neville, waiting for his reaction.

He said nothing as he stared at Lavender. He was too shocked she'd come to see him. After giving him the silent treatment for four days—during which time she'd taken meals sitting between Fred and George Weasley, laughing loudly at their every joke and stayed out of his sight when they weren't in classes together—Neville wasn't sure there was much to say to her. There was a good chance she wouldn't understand or wouldn't be able to accept the situation he found himself in; he didn't have the time or patience to deal with whatever tantrums she could have if she ever knew the full truth.

He didn't even feel like addressing the immature behavior she'd been displaying all week, especially once he'd heard she was clinging to the opinion that it was Hermione and Harry's fault they weren't speaking. If she was going to be this childish about being left out of the information loop, why should he trust her to know the biggest secret of his life? How could he know Lavender would not only be mature enough to handle it, as Hermione obviously was, but that she'd do everything she could to support him? She couldn't even trust him to make his own decisions about who he could be friends with. When it came down to the heart of this life or death situation, the last thing he needed was someone who'd make him second-guess everything he was doing.

"Neville," Lavender began, "I was wondering if we could talk."

"Do we have something to talk about?" Neville ignored the immediate elbow to his stomach from Ron. It was easy for Ron to think he was out of line, he'd never been manipulated by the girl before them.

"I think we do," she said quietly. "A few things."

"I thought you made the terms clear during our last conversation," Neville said. "I don't see what good continuing to talk about it will do."

"You know, we could leave you two alone," Hermione suggested. She closed the book she'd been reading from and motioned for Harry and Ron to gather their things. She stood and started to pack up her homework.

"That won't be necessary," Neville said. "Stay where you are. I can deal with this outside." Neville stood and walked around the table slowly, stopping in front of Lavender. He looked at Parvati. "If you don't mind, I'd like to speak with her alone. For once."

Parvati watched as Neville walked out of the library, not looking back as Lavender scurried behind him into the hall.

The second they were clear of Madam Pince, he turned to Lavender. Neville crossed his arms and studied his girlfriend, from the thin, tight shirt that was one of her favorites to wear for him to the skin-hugging jeans that could've been sewed on. If she thought that was all it took for him to forget how she'd been acting, Lavender was in for a great surprise. And a broken heart.

"I think we'd better start with why you came to me in the library," Neville said. "What do you have to say to me?"

"Do we have to do this out here?" she asked, gesturing around the hallway. "I was hoping—"

"You were hoping to pull me into an empty classroom to talk? Only to talk?" Neville asked. He made a show of looking over her outfit. "You sure that's the story you want to tell me?"

"Neville, please don't be like this," Lavender said. "I just want to talk to you without anyone overhearing. You can leave the door open if you want."

After a few seconds, he nodded and followed her into the closest classroom. Considering that he was fighting the urge to do some heavy-duty yelling, he closed the door and put a charm on it before turning to her, waiting to hear what had made her break the silence first.

Lavender stared at the floor just before her feet, wringing her hands as she gathered her thoughts. After a long moment of silence, she said, "I'm sorry. I was being a little crazy and Parvati said—"

"Parvati?" Neville interrupted. "I know you have thoughts of your own. I'd appreciate having just you as my girlfriend, knowing only what you think or feel about something. There's a reason I asked her to stay in the library."

Her eyes moved up to his. "This isn't just about Harry, is it?"

"Was it ever just about Harry?" Neville asked. "You know better. You can only play these kinds of games for so long before…" He stopped at her expectant expression. Neville closed his eyes. He should've controlled his temper better, but he'd been dying to yell at her all week and the temptation to say something he couldn't take back was strong once he'd gotten started. He'd have to control it. He opened his eyes again and kept his eyes on the wall behind her. "Say what you came to say so I can go back to my homework."

"What's the point if you're going to have that kind of attitude about it?" When Neville didn't respond, she continued. "As I was saying, Parvati confirmed what I'd been thinking anyway, that I overreacted to what's been going on and I should've listened to you instead of thinking I knew better. Especially if I didn't have the whole story. I'm sorry I wrote to your grandmother, but after you told me you might be getting into danger, I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know who else you'd listen if you weren't going to listen to me."

"I was listening to you," Neville said. "I just don't agree that Harry is a threat."

"I know that now." Lavender paused, waiting until Neville looked at her again. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "Can you forgive me?"

"Is that it?" She nodded. "Done." Neville turned and started walking towards the door. Lavender caught up with him before he reached it.

"Is that it for you?" Lavender asked. "After everything, all these months…"

Neville took a long look into her eyes. They'd had fun, but the time for being with someone who was only about that was over. Not that he'd say as much to her face, but she had to know he couldn't deal with the stress he was under and her little manipulations on a daily basis. He needed his focus. He wondered briefly if just telling her he might die would be enough to get her to back off. No, that wouldn't work. It would just leave her with more questions he wasn't willing to answer. It was better they leave things alone until he was more able to deal with her. If he was around to do that later.

"I think we've said all we need to, don't you?" Neville asked. He raised his wand to lift the charm from the door.

Her hand clamped onto his arm. "I thought we meant more to each other than to let everything end with something like this. Is what I did really that bad?"

He wanted to shout yes, but couldn't once he looked into her eyes. There was no reason to hurt her deliberately with the lie. "You showed me that you don't trust my judgment," he said instead. "You went to my grandmother instead of dealing with me yourself. You're not exactly helping the rumors about Harry stop."

"I-I'm sorry about that," Lavender said. "I can try."

"Trying isn't enough." He continued to stare at her, holding himself aloof until her eyes filled with tears. "Lavender…"

"It was driving me crazy, all right?" She sniffled. "Harry almost died the other week and you're getting mixed up in something that could end the same way. Aren't I entitled to act a little desperate if you aren't telling me anything?"

"That doesn't completely justify how you've been acting," Neville said. "Hermione—"

"You're comparing me to _her_?" Lavender shrieked. Neville was suddenly glad the charm was still in place. Any higher and she'd have broken a window.

"I'm not, not really. When she found out what was going on with Harry she had a really hard time dealing with it. Harry told me she spent a lot of time either angry or crying. You saw what she was like at the beginning of term."

"This term?" Lavender asked. Her eyes went wide. "I thought…this was something that's been going on with Harry for a while."

"Not really. Well, sort of. It's complicated," Neville said. He frowned. He was sounding as obscure as Harry again. "I know how difficult all of this is for her and she's been dealing with it for weeks."

"So you thought you'd spare me the worry and tell me nothing because being clueless is so much better?" She crossed her arms and leaned back against a desk. "Then you got upset with me because I was worried? You had to know what that would do to me. You told me you were taking defense lessons from someone who almost got killed, but refused to tell me your part in whatever's happening now. It didn't take much to imagine the worst and the less you said, the more I thought you weren't telling me because you knew I'd worry more." Lavender eyed him, a sudden knowing expression on her face. "How can you blame me for going crazy? I'm one of the people who cares about you the most and you did everything in your power to hint you were in some nameless danger with no real explanation."

When she said it like that, the idea didn't sound so good, but Neville knew the logic was sound. Or would've been if she hadn't gotten so paranoid. Though, she had a point about why she'd become paranoid. He'd just known Ron could handle the entire story better and if he had to tell one person, it would be a friend who wouldn't dissolve into a crying fit or write Harry off as a nutcase without further explanation.

"I'm sorry," Neville said after a long silence. "You're right. That wasn't fair to you. But, it's hard enough for all of us to deal with and I didn't want to put it on you too." He frowned and admitted something he'd been reluctant to say days before. "I just couldn't stand it if you knew and left me because of what's going on."

She rose then, walking to where Neville stood. She could feel the tension in his body as she touched a hand to his arm. "Tell me now," Lavender said. "I'm going to worry about you either way."

"And if you can't handle it?"

"I can't handle not speaking to you or breaking up with you when we can deal with whatever this is together," she said. "I don't care how scary it is. Tell me."

Bracing himself for the possible negative result, he motioned for her to sit and complied with her request, continuing even when she expressed disbelief or wiped at a few surprising tears. When the tale was done a long time later, Neville looked to his girlfriend for some sign that she wouldn't run and leave him to deal with his fate. He was not disappointed.  


* * *

  
When Parvati drummed her fingers on the desktop for the third time, Hermione put her quill down and looked across the table to the other girl, frowning. "That's really annoying, you know."

Parvati's eyes narrowed. "I could think of other things that are annoying," she responded. "Unlike some people, I'm too polite to say it."

"Polite? Is that what you're calling it?" Hermione asked. Harry and Ron exchanged a look over the table, both of them putting their homework aside as Hermione's irritation grew. "I don't suppose you realize we can hear you talk about us when you think everyone's asleep. With the way you two go on about everyone in school, it's pretty laughable that you'd venture to call what you do polite."

"I'm amazed you can call anyone else annoying with the way you simper over Harry or how you carry on in class," Parvati said. Her lips pulled into a smug smile when she realized she'd hit a nerve. "We've done well to tolerate you all this time. The past few days of not speaking have been positively peaceful in comparison."

Before Hermione could say something else, Harry put a hand on her arm, silently cautioning her against starting an argument. After a few seconds under his gaze, she relented. "I don't know why I bothered talking to you anyway," Hermione whispered, frowning as Parvati began drumming her nails on the table again.

"Because Lavender isn't here for you to pick on."

"I did not pick on her," Hermione responded, her voice rising again. "Someone had to tell her what she was doing to him and it was obvious you weren't going to bother since you indulge in the same kind of silly behavior."

"I resent you calling us silly!" Parvati stood abruptly from her chair, nearly knocking it over. "You were also wrong for implying that Lavender is….shallow."

"Not shallow," Hermione said. "Just unconcerned with anything of importance."

"Who are you to say what's important?"

"Who are you and Lavender to say Neville is obligated to do or say anything?" Hermione asked. "He's under enough stress without her throwing tantrums when he should be focused."

She sat again, crossing her arms over her chest. "She has a right to be worried about him. I suppose you think you know what's better for him than his own girlfriend, just like you know everything else."

"No, I do not think I know everything," Hermione replied. "I just know Neville is under a lot of stress and he doesn't need that kind of interference distracting him."

"He also doesn't need anyone interfering in his personal life," Parvati said.

"Which is exactly why he ordered you to stay here," Hermione said, smiling. Seeing that Parvati was finally at a loss for words, she picked up her quill to get back to her homework.

"Hermione, you should apologize."

Harry and Hermione both looked up in surprise at Ron's words, surpassed only by the shocked expression he got from Parvati as she turned to him. Hermione studied his expression for a long moment before she said, "No." She looked down at her Arithmancy book and tried to remember where she'd spotted a passage she needed to reference.

"Honestly, you're the only girl I know who's more aggravating than my sister," Ron said. "You've got no right talking to Parvati like that."

"And she's got a right to talk to me like that, is that it?" Hermione put her quill down again, slowly, as she attempted to suppress her rising anger. "Parvati gives as good as she gets and doesn't need you to defend her." She paused as a thought came to her. "Unless you're not jumping in because you think she really needs you to defend her." Hermione smiled. "Sweet Ronald, but you should really try flowers. The whole rescuing hero thing doesn't suit you."

Rather than respond as he had to her ribbing earlier, he slammed his book closed and stalked out of the library, leaving his and Neville's homework scattered all over the table.

"Well, I'm just having a fantastic week, aren't I?" Hermione frowned and turned to Harry.

"I should go after him," Parvati said.

Seeing Harry's expression—a mixture of disappointment and expectancy—Hermione stood before Parvati could leave the table. "No, I need to talk to him. We've been—apparently, I've been arguing with just about everyone this week." Before either Harry or Parvati could say anything, she turned and walked briskly from the library, almost bumping into Ron as he paced in the middle of the hall.

He mumbled something foul under his breath when he spotted her. "What are you doing out here?"

"I think we need to talk," Hermione said.

"You talk?" He stopped moving and stared at her. "I thought you only knew how to communicate with insults and hexes these days."

"I'm sorry, but you just—" She stopped when Ron turned away from her. She went over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I thought you knew I was kidding. I thought you could handle it. You joke with Harry and Neville like that all the time."

Ron turned then and Hermione was startled by the hurt in his eyes. "It's different with blokes, Hermione. If they want to give me grief about not asking her out…or anything else, it's just different. You can't talk to a guy that way and not expect him to take it as an insult."

"Fine, I know that now." She didn't know what else to say, but since joking the way the boys did was off the table, Hermione figured asking Ron about his feelings at the moment was probably off-limits too. If he was anything like Harry, getting him to say how he felt would require half a bottle of Veritaserum. "Will you come back into the library?" She looked around the hall. "Neville and Lavender probably went off somewhere to make up and we've got a lot of homework to finish before we meet with Professor Lupin."

"I can't," Ron said. "I don't want to go back in there."

"Why?" Panicked thoughts ran through Hermione's mind of how she'd possibly killed her friendship with Ron permanently, which could result in his being less friendly towards Harry. Hermione knew one of the things he'd been longing to have was the closeness of the two people he'd been friends with before and she'd never forgive herself if Ron kept his distance because of her. "It's not what I said, is it? I thought we'd cleared that."

"No, it's not you." He smiled and she noticed for the first time that he was blushing. "You were right about me and Parvati. Sort of. I really have no idea what to do around her and after what you said just now, I don't think I can go in there and act normal."

Hermione giggled. At Ron expression, she said, "Sorry, it's just so cute how embarrassed you both are about it. I thought you had a date to go flying together or something."

"Play Quidditch, but I've never actually set a day or anything and she hasn't said anything to me about it since." Ron looked at the floor and raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head. "If she hasn't lost interest in me by now, she should after we spend some time together. I don't know why I'm bothering. She and her sister are the prettiest girls in the school and I don't even—" He stopped at Hermione's next giggle. "Not that you're not—I mean—"

"You don't have to compliment me," Hermione said. "I'm just shocked you're saying all this out loud. To me."

"I can't exactly talk to them about it, now can I?" Ron asked. He paused and Hermione watched the play of emotions across his face as he gathered his thoughts. "What do I do?"

"First, you can stop worrying that she's going to lose interest in you." She smiled, remembering the giggly conversation Parvati and Lavender had the night before. "She's actually afraid you're not interested in her. Or that you'll find her pretty and not much else."

"That's ridiculous," Ron replied. "Of course there's more to her than being pretty. Why would she think I—?" He stopped again and blushed deeper at Hermione's knowing grin. He nodded for her to continue.

"I'm pretty sure the two of you will never get together if left to your own devices," Hermione said. "I think I'm going to have to guide you through this, step-by-step."

"You make it sound like I'm slow," Ron remarked in a soft voice.

"No, just…a boy." Hermione sighed. "You all need help with it."

"Which is why after you kissed Harry the first time, you ran off like your robes were on fire?"

Hermione covered her face in her hands. "Why will no one let me forget that? Harry still teases me about it."

"He knows about that, then?" Ron asked. "The whole time thing must be strange for you. For both of you."

"It is," she admitted. "We're making it work, though. Speaking of things we've got to get to work, I have to help you with Parvati. As entertaining as it is watching you go back and forth, hearing her blab about it with Lavender easily makes me lose two hours of sleep a night. They never shut up about you and Neville."

Ron laughed. "I guess I could be flattered."

"You really should be." Her expression turning serious, Hermione stepped closer to him and put a hand to his cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes. "You need to realize something. No matter how silly she acts, she really likes you. And don't try to make me apologize for saying the truth," Hermione said. "They are both silly. Parvati likes that you're awkward around her and don't always say the right thing and tell somewhat obscene jokes because you're being you and most other boys are…they have some strange idea of how they should act around her just because she's pretty," Hermione said. "The only way you could mess this is up is if you stop being yourself. That and if you never get up the courage to ask her to spend time alone with you."

Smiling, Hermione lowered her hand. "I do know what I'm talking about with this. If I hadn't gotten up the nerve to make the first move, Harry and I would still be just friends. I wouldn't trade what we have for the world. All the second-guessing and what-ifs that came first are worth it. You're lucky," she remarked. "You already know she likes you. It should be easy."

"Thanks," Ron said. "Maybe you're not the crazy control freak with no feelings she said you were."

"What?"

"Kidding," Ron said, poking his tongue out at her. "We do that, remember?"

"You are not funny."

"Really? Parvati thinks so."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What does she know?"

"Are you all right?" They both turned as Harry came out of the library and approached them. "I thought I'd have to come out here and search for Madam Pomfrey to help me pick up the pieces."

"We're fine," Hermione said. "You know I can deal with him if he gets out of hand." She winked at Ron and laughed at his resulting frown. "Need something?"

Harry shook his head. "Just making sure you're both whole. I'm bored with the library. I've started packing up our things, I just wanted to know if you two want to wait for Neville to come back or if he can just meet us later."

"We're not due to meet Professor Lupin until after dinner," Ron said. He glanced at the faint daylight streaming through one of the windows. "What's the rush to get out of the library?"

Harry put his arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her close to his side. "I've thought of something better to do with the afternoon than spend it surrounded by dusty books."

"Honestly, you should be more ready for a nap than another go," Ron said. "I'd think you'd be tired of constantly—" He stopped, swallowing hard as he watched Hermione's expression go from relaxed to furious.

"You told them?" she asked, pushing away from Harry.

"Told them what?" Harry asked. He blinked rapidly and put his hands up in a defensive gesture. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's barely been more than a week and your friends already know we…Harry!" Hermione smacked his shoulder.

"I wouldn't say he waited a week," Ron supplied. When Hermione turned on him, he added, "In his defense, he didn't tell us in so many words. We sort of figured it out."

"And had a good chat about what it was like, I'd wager," Hermione said. She turned to Harry again. "If I hear you've shown them so much as one memory in your Pensieve—"

"You'll hex my bits off," Harry said.

"No, I like those," Hermione quickly responded, earning a goofy grin from both boys. It took a minute for her to register what she'd said and she blushed accordingly. "I'll find a way to punish you. One you won't like," she added at Harry's widening smile. Before Harry could say anything else, Hermione turned and walked back into the library, soon followed by the two laughing friends.  


* * *

  
Bellatrix looked over the scrawled text one last time before cursing, the quill shaking as she thought of a response to her nephew's message.

_You don't get to dictate what happens now_, Bellatrix wrote.

_Don't I?_ Draco responded.

Bellatrix slammed the book closed and gazed across the room to the bed where her master slept. There was something wrong. If it wasn't in the potion Draco had given her, it was one of the spells that accompanied it. It had been three days and he hadn't the strength to stay awake for more than an hour or two. Bella couldn't do anything about it but worry—that, and debate how to kill her nephew if he'd deliberately withheld information. She had the sneaking suspicion Narcissa's son was setting himself up for what he felt was a better position. What he did not know, but would soon learn, is that the only thing he was setting himself up for was a spot high on the list of expendable targets. Family or no, if he couldn't be trusted, he was disposable.


	10. Power Shift

She was doing it again. Minerva McGonagall was pacing back and forth in front of her desk, using language that would've made her mother's ears burn if she was around to hear. Albus had lost whatever sense—and scruples—she'd thought he possessed and it was only a matter of time before the whole plan blew up in their faces. Harry and Neville would suffer for his arrogance. His arrogance and her neglect—the acts she'd wanted to pretend were faith in Albus's grand plans and not her own fear that stopping him would lead to some unknown disaster neither of them could understand. This plan was a known evil. One with a definite, understood method of execution and ending. One, she felt sure, could end with several of her students—and possibly many others—dead.

Who, then, would be to blame? Certainly not the "fates" Albus had assured her had already determined the future. No. She believed that as much as she believed Harry would embrace the full measure of this plan once he learned of it, which she would insist on as soon as possible. He would run for his life, and he had every right. Especially if she, after swearing to protect him, left him at the mercy of the unfulfilled prophecy that might be his undoing. That, she knew, was her true crime. Letting Albus talk her into briefly trusting in the words of an uncertain prediction. It was madness.

She stopped moving as she heard someone step into her office from the Floo. Minerva held herself in place, attempting to gain control of the emotions that always seemed on the verge of running rampant when she spoke to the Minister these days. When she'd sufficiently calmed herself, she turned and frowned at the man in the armchair.

"I don't need to ask what that look is about," he said. He motioned to the tea he'd already prepared for her sitting on her desk. "I'm not comfortable telling Harry everything yet."

"Would you be comfortable with him attempting to kill you the next time he sets eyes on you?" Professor McGonagall asked. She sat across from Dumbledore and levitated the tea cup to her hand. "It may come to that, you know. Once he knows more. If, no when more people die. He will blame you and—"

"And you think I should be scared of a temperamental child?" Albus asked coolly. He lifted his tumbler of firewhiskey and took a slow sip. "The plan is working and once it comes to fruition—"

"Harry and Neville will die and you'll award them for their noble sacrifice after the fact," Minerva supplied. "Isn't that the way of it?"

"We've been over this," Dumbledore said softly. He chose his words slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Their chances of death are so small as to be insignificant."

"They are children, not a math problem," McGonagall said. "And yes, I do believe you should fear him. He is not like other children his age. Or adults, for that matter. Remus tells me Harry's training with Neville has been remarkable, to the point where he wonders why he even bothers showing up. With the things he's faced in his life, if Remus doesn't believe he can train Harry to do anything, shouldn't that give you a reason to not want Harry as an enemy?"

"I will never think of the boy that way," Dumbledore said. "But your story does prove my point. He doesn't need either of us to coddle him. As he has pointed out to me, and you just said yourself, he is hardly an ordinary child. That will improve his chances against Voldemort in ways you and I cannot predict."

"Exactly." Minerva took a deep breath and tried to steady her hand as Dumbledore refilled her tea. "We cannot predict what will happen and toying with these children's lives is irresponsible and reckless. I don't want to be the one to tell Lily we've let her son die. Not after…" She shook her head. "She'll see it in my eyes. That I helped you lead him to this point. I refuse to encourage the kind of actions that will make it hard for me to look someone in the eye."

"Your participation is not a necessity," Albus reminded her.

"Someone must keep an eye on you."

"A fine job you're doing of it," he said.

She immediately wanted to slap the smug grin from his lips. She only had so much restraint and his attitude was testing the very limits of it. Minerva couldn't be sure, but she suspected he got a rise out of toying with her. It would be perfectly fitting with his character, she considered.

"Draco is doing better at his job than I'd believed was possible. I thought sure he would turn on us—"

"That's what happens when you coerce someone by threatening," Minerva pointed out. "Though you were willing to take that chance."

"I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt," Albus corrected. "More so than you are giving me." A glare from her was his only response. "As I was saying, he passed on our latest information to his aunt and Bella is…I suppose the best way to say it is that she is displeased with the results. An altered formula was a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself." Dumbledore took another sip from his drink and smiled slowly. "Voldemort is human again, but too weak to stay awake for long. If he even attempts a spell, he immediately weakens to the point of passing out."

"How long should we expect that to last? Surely, his natural strength will return one day."

"Harry and Neville will have to kill him before that time," Dumbledore stated. "I don't think it would take much for Bella to be inspired to bring the boys to him, if she feels it's to their advantage."

"That's the outcome of your big plan?" Minerva stared at him over the top of her glasses, suddenly wishing they could trade drinks. "You wish to lure the boys into Bella's lap and see what happens if they try to take away her reason for being? You are off your nut."

Dumbledore blinked hard at her uncharacteristically ribald words. "That is not the extent of the plan," he said. "Harry and Neville have a strength together that Voldemort cannot comprehend."

"Oh, yes," she said. "The power of love." She rolled her eyes. "What kind of self-serving rubbish is that? Be sensible. These boys are going to die and neither of the sacrifices that saved their lives are going to be able to do it again."

"Did you ever look at Harry's memory of seeing Voldemort return to a human form? From his fourth year?" When she indicated she hadn't, Albus continued. "He wanted the blood of his victim, his enemy, to strengthen him. He didn't know why it felt necessary, but I expect it is because they are connected so deeply, Voldemort cannot resume a normal existence without his victim. The strength that protected those boys does not protect his mortal body now. They may not be able to kill him at full strength, but they cannot fail to do so now. I expect he will remain weak for several more months, possibly until next spring."

"Then what? Plan B?" Minerva Summoned the bottle of firewhiskey on the edge of her desk and splashed some liberally into her tea cup.

"It will not come to that. It will not be necessary."

"Right," she said. "Just like it wasn't necessary for Auror Tonks to have as many reinforcements as she could before attempting to arrest someone dangerous. They really could have arrested Severus and Bellatrix together. Or, if we'd just waited a few more days, until the rest of the department was available—"

"You thought she was capable then," Dumbledore reminded her. "Don't tell me you think she should've had more help because she's a woman?"

"Because she's young," Minerva said, her voice soft. "As are Harry and Neville. We know better and should be guiding them instead of letting them live with our mistakes, openly leading them into facing danger. Neither of us knows what will happen, but we're letting it continue."

"Neither of us knows the details of what will happen, but we are in control of what is happening now."

"Are you?" she asked. She emptied her cup in one gulp. "I'm not in control of anything. I don't believe I've ever been less in control." She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. "I will not help you any longer if we don't tell him. Both of them. Everything. I know you don't agree with me, but I've lost the ability to care." Minerva's eyes met his and she braced herself against the resistance she saw.

"You may not be worried about having Harry as your enemy, but you should concern yourself with making one of me. And Lily. And Augusta Longbottom And Sirius and Remus and everyone else who wants to see Harry and Neville live. Have me arrested if you wish, but know this: I will not see those children led to their death. You've taken your plan this far. Give them the truth so they may decide what they wish to do next. Let everyone who actually cares about them ensure they will live through this time."

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side as he studied her. "Have I given you the impression that I don't care for them?"

"Don't try to convince me you believe you've done otherwise," she remarked. "The time for games is long past. Will you be sitting down with them tonight or shall I have to forcibly block your access to Hogwarts?"

There was a long moment before he spoke again. A moment in which images flashed before her of the bodies of her students, laid out side-by-side, powerless to fight against the man who'd come back from an uncertain existence to hunt and destroy them. A moment during which she felt a little of her soul go out to them, a fraction of the guilt that would consume her if this vision became their reality. A moment suspended in time before Dumbledore said, "Yes."  


* * *

  
When Harry walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, two surprises greeted him. The first, Lavender and Neville sitting in the corner, having obviously spent the afternoon making up. They hadn't been seen at dinner and Ron was half-convinced Neville had spent the time trying to figure out what his alibi would be when she went missing. Hermione had known they were going to make up, and if her giggle from behind him was any indication, she was happy they had done so.

The second surprise, and by far the more interesting, was that Tonks was leaning against Professor Lupin's desk with him and they appeared to be holding hands as they talked in low voices. Harry shook his head slowly in disbelief. Couldn't be. They barely knew each other. He had to think about getting stronger glasses.

"Tonks!" She jumped at the sound of her name and turned to Harry with a wide smile.

"Wotcher Harry!" Her pink hair seemed to brighten for a few seconds as she waved him and Hermione over.

"I didn't realize you'd be here today," Harry said as he neared the desk. "Didn't you say something about a security assignment in London?"

"I got someone else to take care of it," she said, grinning at him. "I had to when Remus told me you were doing story hour tonight. I'm dying to learn the big mystery behind the Minister turning you into his favorite pet project."

When Harry sighed and closed his eyes, Hermione said, "Probably not the best name to bring up these days. Harry and I are not too happy with him."

"Why not?" Lupin asked.

"He's not giving Harry enough information about what's going on with, well, everything," Hermione said.

"Maybe he doesn't want you to worry until we know for sure where things stand," Lupin said.

"Oh, no. That's not it. He wants to keep me under his control by not telling me everything," Harry said. "You'll find out exactly why later, but a few comments about what Voldemort's followers are up to aren't likely to worry me. What worries me is that he might be setting us up to fail."

"You don't really believe that?" Tonks asked. "I've only spoken to the Minister a few times, but I haven't gotten that impression."

Harry sighed again. "I'd rather not talk about it." He smiled at Tonks and she gave an answering one. "So, how have you been? You look better than the last time I'd seen you."

"That was two days ago, Harry," she responded. "Did I really look that bad teaching your classes? I thought I did a fair job."

Harry shrugged. "You were fine. I'm just wondering if you're sleeping better. I know you've had a hard time of it since…the other week." He stopped short of saying what they were both thinking. He'd spent the first twenty minutes they'd had alone earlier in the week apologizing for the way Snape and Voldemort had tortured her in his place, only to have her remind him in stark terms that he would've died from half the assault they'd committed. Aside from the occasional nightmare, she'd claimed she was fine. At least, so far. That assurance wouldn't stop Harry from worrying about her. After the dream he'd had of what had happened to Tonks, he had a feeling he'd be asking about her for the rest of their lives.

"I'm sleeping a little better these days, yes," she said. She glanced at Remus briefly and Harry thought he detected a faint blush before her skin returned to it's normal pale pallor. "I've found that spending time with friends helps relax me and makes it easier to block out the nightmares."

"That helped me too, but only if I do it just before bed," Harry remarked. "I can't imagine you having a friend at your place until right before you go to sleep."

At this comment, both Tonks and Lupin blushed and his professor seemed to lean away from the Auror sitting next to him. "I make do with whatever time I can get," Tonks said, smiling widely again.

Harry coughed hard and gasped for air briefly when he realized what was probably going on. So much for barely knowing each other. There was some information he was better off not knowing for sure. His girlfriend obviously didn't feel the same way.

"Does this mean we'll be seeing more of you around the school?"

Harry gasped, turning. "Hermione!"

She shrugged. "Sorry. I was just curious."

Professor Lupin turned away from his students in embarrassment. Tonks merely continued smiling. "You may see more of me during the day if the Headmistress thinks the school needs more security. And on days when I'm needed as a substitute teacher. Other than that, no. I don't believe you'll see me at all."

"Well, I'm happy for you."

Harry turned again. "Hermione."

She giggled. "What? I'm happy for anyone who can find someone these days," she said, leaning onto his arm. "Can you blame me?"

"No, but it's not really our business if…well, you know," he said, trying not to say what he was thinking out loud.

Lupin cleared his throat and Harry looked at him, grateful that his attention was being drawn from his girlfriend's newfound interest in everyone else's personal life.

"Ron and Parvati are here," he said. "Are we ready to start?"

Harry nodded and they broke into pairs again, Neville and Harry together as usual, Lavender against Ron and Hermione dueling Parvati. Both Tonks and Professor Lupin shouted out instructions and advice to the dueling groups, traveling around to show them how to improve their fighting. More than an hour had gone by before two of the couples stopped, settling around the room to watch as Harry and Neville continued to duel aggressively. After another twenty minutes, Harry held up his hand as a signal for Neville to stop.

"Ready to admit defeat?" Neville asked.

"No," he said. The panting hampering that one word may have spoken a different story, but Harry wanted to push forward anyway. "I think it's time to get to the next level of your training. I think we should work on the Unforgivable Curses," Harry said. He ignored Lavender's noise of protest. "Let's try it with me first." He nodded at Neville. "The Imperius Curse."

"You've got to be kidding," Neville said. "You want me to use it on you?" He turned to look at Professor Lupin. "You're going to let him do this?"

"It's all right, Neville. Listen." Harry waited until the other boy was facing him again. "This is probably the easiest of the three. You can ask Tonks," he said, pointing. "Aurors practice throwing them off and I think we should too. When you're under the Imperius Curse," he explained, "it feels like…kind of like you're floating. Worry free, relaxed. You'll feel very calm and whatever suggestions the person gives you will sound like the best idea in the world. This is the feeling you have to fight against. It's more of a mental fight than the other two curses."

"How would you know what it's like to fight off the Imperius Curse?" Lavender asked.

Harry sucked in air through his teeth quickly and turned to her, preparing to make a sarcastic remark. Something in her expression made him change his mind. If she wasn't willing to support Neville, she wouldn't be at his training. He had to try to respect that. "I've had someone use it on me," Harry said in a flat voice. "The Cruciatus Curse as well. At least Neville will get to practice fighting off two Unforgivables without wondering if he'll die as soon as the caster is finished using them."

He turned back to Neville and nodded again. "This is the wand movement." Harry demonstrated. "The incantation is Imperio." He demonstrated the wand movement along with the incantation. "Whenever you're ready, Neville. When you've watched me fight it a few times, if you're comfortable, you can practice fighting it off next."

Neville nodded and lifted his wand; his lips trembled as he prepared to cast his first Unforgivable Curse. It didn't take long for Harry to prove that he could easily throw off the spell his friend cast, forcing him to urge Neville to put all of his strength behind it, making it a real fight.

As she watched them in mock battle, Lavender was reminded of the day they'd done defensive spells in class, and how Harry had easily beat out everyone to face off against Professor Snape. She'd been impressed then, but had thought his stepfather had just made a show of keeping the fight on a fairly even keel. Now she understood better and the knowledge was intriguing. If Harry really had done everything Neville had told her about, maybe there was a chance for both of them.

Harry was so absorbed in fighting off the spell, he didn't notice someone else had entered the room until Neville dropped his wand slightly before raising it and pointing across the room. Harry turned in time to see Draco pulling the door shut and crossing the floor.

"I hope I'm still welcome," he said. "If you don't mind," he nodded in Neville's direction.

_Today is the day for surprises_, Harry thought as Draco stepped closer. The Slytherin held out his hand to Harry, waiting patiently until Harry took it to shake.

"I think we can make this work," Draco said. He seemed serious, but Harry couldn't help wondering what else was behind that cold gray gaze. There had to be more to it. In a heartbeat, Harry decided to let his friends protect him from whatever the blonde had coming. Knowing Hermione and Lavender's paranoia, they'd see it before anyone else.

"I hope you don't make me regret trusting you," Harry responded before letting go of his hand. He turned back to Neville and made a show of going back to their training session as if nothing significant had happened.

Draco walked to the back of the room and took up a spot next to Tonks as Harry cast the Imperius Curse on Neville. Feeling the Auror's eyes on him, Draco turned and gave his cousin a slow up and down perusal.

"So you're Narcissa's boy?" Tonks asked.

"Boy?" Draco asked. His lips pressed into a thin line then turned down at the corners into a small frown. "You're the Auror helping Potter and his friends hunt down Aunt Bella?"

Tonks looked at him thoughtfully, her bright pink hair dulling a bit as she studied his expression. "You should be careful, Malfoy. Your mask is slipping." Looking back at Harry, she called out, "Stop, Harry!" When he turned, she pushed away from the desk and walked to the halfway point between he and Neville. Both boys seemed grateful for the chance to take a break. "I think you should try it with me next."

"Sure," Harry said. He moved to walk to the side of the room.

She called to him before he could get too far. "No, not Neville. You." Tonks grinned. "You're holding back with him and I know why. He's not enough of a challenge for you." She turned to address the room. "If you want to see what a real life or death battle is like, Harry and I are going to give you a better demonstration."

"What?" The thought of raising his wand to her in anything but defense caused the word 'no' to immediately course through his mind. There was no way Harry could duel her. "I don't think we should. I mean, you're still—"

"I'm still what?" Tonks smiled again and Harry saw something in her smile that gave him pause. A pause that allowed her to raise her wand and send him flat on his back in seconds. When the pain at the back of his head receded a bit and the spots in front of his eyes disappeared, Harry sat up to gaze at the smirking Auror. "Does that feel like I'm too delicate?" she asked. Laughter could be heard on the side of the room, but Harry refused to turn and see who it was. It sounded suspiciously like Hermione and maybe Ron.

"Stop the sniveling I know you want to do and dust yourself off, Potter. It's time you got to the next level of _your_ training. That is, unless you want me to really embarrass you."

Faced with another teasing smile, Harry stood from the floor and reached into his pocket. If he was going to fight with her—a real fight instead of working with Neville on techniques—he wanted his own wand. He tossed Professor Lupin's wand back to him and turned back to face Tonks, hoping he wouldn't be forced to hurt her if he got too excited.

In the end, it mattered very little which wand he used. She quickly reminded him what it was like to really be in a fight. Harry hated to compare it to the first time he'd faced Voldemort, but dueling with Tonks was the closest he'd come to feeling overwhelmed in that way since he'd time traveled. She made good on her promise to keep him on his toes and Harry discovered a newfound respect for the Auror. However she might have been affected by the torture she suffered, she was still very much up to her job.

With a groan, Harry fell on his back for the third time; he held up one hand so Tonks knew he was surrendering, finally. Smiling broadly, she winked at him as she helped him to his feet. "I'll help you learn silent spell casting so you can handle me a little better next time. You'll be that much faster once you learn it."

"I think I can work that into lessons on Monday," Lupin said. "They're not really due to learn it until sixth year, but I don't think Minerva would mind if I started teaching all of my older classes the technique."

"Is that all for tonight?" Lavender asked.

Neville glanced at this watch. "It's not even nine. Are you tired already?"

She smiled. "No, but I was hoping we could have some time to…talk." Neville blushed but said nothing as Lupin and Tonks began moving the desks back into place.

Draco stood. "I think it's time for me to go. I've got some things to do." He flashed a brief smile at Harry. "Anything specific you want me to say?"

What did he want Draco to write to his aunt? Harry grinned as a thought occurred to him. "Tell her we're studying Lockhart's book _Wondrous Ways To Win In Battle_ religiously. It's the mainstay of our training program." Hermione laughed at this, recalling his description of the ridiculous defense book—and the man who'd written it. "If you want to quote some passages for her, let me know and I'll bring you my copy Monday."

Draco nodded and left quickly. Everyone in the room relaxed noticeably when the door closed behind him.

"Okay, out with it," Parvati said.

Harry turned to her in surprise. She'd hardly said three words to him the entire week and now she was ordering him around? "I'm sorry?"

"I heard you were finally telling the entire story tonight," she said. "I don't want to hear it second-hand from anyone else. What has been going on with you the past few weeks?"

Harry looked around the room, realizing the talk he'd been planning to have with Lupin and now Tonks was going to turn into a round discussion with everyone. They'd all gotten comfortable seated in the chairs near the front of the room and were waiting for a response from him.

"I hadn't really planned on talking like—"

"Harry, please," Ron said. "Parvati's right. Neville told me as much as he could, but I think we'd all understand better if you told us the story yourself. We're here to support you. That'll be easier once we know the full truth."

He turned to Hermione who nodded her encouragement. If there was any time he should give people a reason to support him, it was then. With Dumbledore doing who knew what and McGonagall seemingly changing her allegiance, Harry needed all of the reinforcements he could get.

"Fine," he said. He motioned one hand towards the door. "But first we need to—" He stopped as both Tonks and Lupin pointed their wands towards the door, protecting it with a series of spells. Harry nodded at Professor Lupin. "You remember what I said to you the other day?"

Grinning, Lupin reached into the first drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey. "Tonks brought something to stabilize us during what promises to be an interesting story," he said, settling next to her on top of the desk. She conjured two glass tumblers and he poured them both drinks. Lupin raised his glass in a brief salute. "We're ready whenever you are, Harry."

Out of nowhere, Harry could feel nerves assailing him. It had been one thing to convince Hermione and Neville his words were real, but every adult he'd spoken to had greeted his story with a healthy amount of skepticism. It was possible, after everything that had happened, this time would be different. After all, they had all seen things in the paper and around school that couldn't be easily explained. Still, he didn't know how he would face it if two adults he respected refused to believe a word of it, or worse, if they were convinced he was crazy—and Dumbledore and everyone else for believing him. All told, a fantastic way to spend a Saturday night.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the front of the classroom. She pulled out two chairs and placed them in front of their professor's desk, facing the others in a circle. Harry sat obediently and began mentally running over his life story in his head, briefly wondering why he didn't write it down so he could just pass it from person to person without having to explain again. After a moment, he looked around at the curious faces, extracted a promise of secrecy from everyone in the room and began his story.

The first interruption came from Professor Lupin. "Wait, Pettigrew _turned on_ James and Lily? We were told the secret had been tortured out of him." The anger in his rising voice caused Tonks to lean away from him a bit. "You know I saw that rat bastard a few weeks ago and he told me he kept in touch with your mother and Snape." Lupin frowned. "Now I know why. Neither of those little—" He stopped and seemed to remember where he was. He took a gulp of his drink. "I'm sorry, Harry. Continue with your story."

Harry continued, but hadn't gotten too far when the second interruption came. This one was from Parvati. "So _that's_ why you never use your own wand to duel Neville." Her expression became thoughtful. "Then, how are you…? Oh, never mind. Go ahead."

Twenty minutes later, he was interrupted by Tonks. "I don't believe it. That miserable witch was pretending to teach at this school? And hurting students and no one—" She took a deep breath and let loose a string of curse words that made Harry raise both eyebrows in surprise. Professor Lupin put his arm around her in comfort.

When she was done, Harry continued, telling the rest of his story to the group. He found it impossible to meet the Auror's eyes when he described the dream he'd had about her torture in detail, particularly when Tonks became emotional as he spoke. Remembering to gloss over the details of exactly how Snape had died when he described his next dream, Harry finished the rest of the story in a rush, stopping with the last meeting he and Hermione had taken with Dumbledore and McGonagall the previous Saturday. He looked around the room after he completed his story, at the worried, confused and shocked faces of his friends. Parvati was the first to break the silence.

"This is insane," she said. "It's a death mission. Neville, you—" Parvati looked back and forth between him and Harry. "I'm sorry the two of you have to go through this. I can't imagine being able to face it myself."

"That's why we need the help of everyone in this room," Harry said. "I've never been able to tell my story to anyone like this before. Even when I gave that interview about Cedric, it was because I had to make people believe me so they could protect themselves. Now, it's because I don't know if we can trust Dumbledore to protect us. Or Professor McGonagall."

"Harry, I still think she's on our side," Hermione said.

"But not the Minister?" Lupin asked.

"I just told you how he's been acting," Harry said. "What else am I to think except that he wants us to fulfill this prophecy as quickly as possible, damn the consequences?"

"You don't have to worry about protection, Harry," Tonks said. Her face had taken on a rare serious expression. "He may run the government, but no one in Magical Law Enforcement will knowingly let either of you come to harm, regardless of his orders. I think I can speak for everyone in saying even if we have to defy him directly, we'll make sure you—" A knock at the door interrupted his words.

"How many protections did you put on the door?" Harry asked.

"Enough that even a very powerful wizard would have to knock," Tonks responded, lifting her wand. When the door was unlocked, Dumbledore and the Headmistress stepped inside the classroom; they were met with a roomful of unfriendly stares. Tonks secured the door behind them.

McGonagall walked to the front of the classroom and turned to face Dumbledore as he walked further in the room, her expression changing to match the others.

He nodded in her direction. "It seems you were right. The time has come."

"The time has come for what?" Harry asked.

"Harry, Neville, I'd like to speak with the two of you alone."

"No." Harry knew for sure that response had come from Hermione, Lupin and Tonks, but he couldn't be positive everyone else hadn't said it at the same time. He fought down a smile. This was far better than his friends' response to Dumbledore's orders to isolate him the summer before fifth year. Now, Harry knew he had their loyalty. So did the Minister. And he didn't look at all happy about it. Harry knew what Dumbledore was seeing when he looked over the people in the room, Harry in the capacity of the leader Hermione had told him he could become when they began Dumbledore's Army. He only wished it hadn't taken everything he'd been through in the past year for him to prove it to himself.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "I'm not sure if this is something that would lend itself very well to a group discussion, but—"

"Funny," Lavender said. She crossed her arms over her chest. "After all I've seen and heard, I think a discussion about Horcruxes and battling to the death is exactly the kind of thing that needs to be talked about out in the open, among friends."

At her words, Dumbledore's eyes shot over to Hermione as he realized she'd discussed their talks. Frowning, he transfigured one of the classroom chairs for himself and positioned it between Harry and Neville.

"It seems you've done well to get people to understand your side of the story," Dumbledore said.

"I thought it was _our_ side," Harry responded. "Unless that's what you've come to tell me and Neville. If we're no longer on the same side, Minister, I think it's best you tell us now."

"No, Mr. Potter, I am not going to do that," Dumbledore responded. "The opposite, in fact." He motioned to the Headmistress standing next to Lupin's desk. "Professor McGonagall indicated it was long past time I tell you what Mr. Malfoy has been doing on your behalf and, after a time, I came to agree with her." He looked around the room as he continued. "First, you must understand that I have done nothing I believe would ever cause either of you harm." His cool gaze settled on Harry. "In fact, I hope my actions of the past few weeks will put an end to this unfortunate situation as quickly and painlessly as possible for all involved."

Harry doubted that very much, but he and the others sat back and listened as the Minister of Magic told a story of altered reanimation spells, a weakened Dark Lord and the slow recapturing of some of his escaped followers.


	11. Forced Hands

Harry stopped outside the classroom door and turned to Hermione, a frown pulling down his handsome face. She'd known he wouldn't be in a good mood after the discussion they'd had the night before, but she'd hoped he would've calmed himself a bit by morning. Dumbledore had done his best to explain the situation with Draco, even going so far as to tell Harry he would seek his approval for the next part of the plan. Still, Harry had remained angry after the Minister had left, partly because the plan had brought Voldemort into an unpredictable human form and partly because he now had to rely on Draco to not betray either him or Neville. That, along with the Horcrux situation, was a culmination of circumstances he'd been hoping to avoid getting caught up in. Good intentions or not, the Minister had managed to get Harry and Neville exactly where he wanted them—in spite of Harry's best efforts to control the situation. Hermione knew he was going to remain livid for a while.

"Why are we here again?" Harry asked. "After everything we went through last night, I thought we'd be done with Dumbledore for a while. At least until he's able to tell us something useful."

Hermione smiled and took his hand. His expression softened slightly. "I know how you feel, but this might help. He's already met with Neville and it can't hurt for him to have a look at you too."

"Yes, but why?" Harry asked. He glanced at the door and drew his mouth tight. "He said he has no clue if he can take the portions of Voldemort's soul out of us, and he's already looked at Neville, so why does he need to examine me as well? How do I even know it's safe?"

"Of course it's safe," Hermione said. "We just saw Neville a few minutes ago and he's fine. He's examining both of you because you're different and he needs to know everything he can."

Hermione read everything he wasn't saying in his sudden skeptical expression. There might be a need to be cautious around Dumbledore—indeed, she knew the man was still harboring a number of secrets until he felt it was safe to tell her hot-headed boyfriend—but there was no reason to fear him. Rather than assure Harry of this, she said, "I'll be right there the whole time. He's not gong to Imperius you to go along with any part of his plan while I'm watching."

"Still, I don't see why—"

"Harry. For me," she pleaded. Hermione squeezed his hand and pulled him until their bodies were touching from torso to shin. Shifting her bag back on her shoulder, she reached up to touch his face and held his eyes with hers. "I know you still don't trust him and I understand that. I support it. But please give him every chance to save your life; he thinks this might help. If he can find a way to remove the main connection You-Know-Who has with you and Neville, it could make a lot of difference during the fight. You'd be able to use your wands without a problem, for one. He wouldn't be able to read your thoughts." She slid her other hand to the back of Harry's neck. "The nightmares would be gone completely," she whispered.

Smiling, Harry closed the distance between their lips. "I haven't had a nightmare since the first night we were together."

"Because we've been together in some fashion every night since then," Hermione responded. Hermione had the incomplete homework and sleep deprivation to prove it. "I know it helps you relax, but you should try Occlumency again. We can't keep this up. Ron was right, I'm getting pretty tired."

Harry laughed. "This is a bad thing?"

She giggled before she could help herself. If she answered that honestly, there would be no end to the teasing. Not that she needed to. He knew how she felt every night they were together. "Stop it! Just do this for me. If Dumbledore and any of the Ministry employees can figure out a way to eliminate this one issue, everything else will seem that much easier in comparison."

"Fine," Harry said. "I don't like it, but it can't hurt."

"I would say that's the right spirit, but you know I'd be lying," Hermione replied. After standing on her toes for one last kiss, Hermione moved around Harry and pushed open the classroom door. He followed her into the room and echoed Hermione's surprise at what they saw.

One of the desks in the room had been transfigured into a metal examination table several feet off the ground. There were cloth restraints at either end and a brace to hold a person's neck and head in place.

"Is he going to examine me or torture me?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore cleared his throat at the words and nodded once after the students turned to face him in the corner. "I assure you, it will be a painless examination. The restraints are merely to keep you from falling from the table while I conduct a thorough scan," Dumbledore said. He held up what appeared to be a small silver wand. Stepping closer, he extended it for the students to examine. The instrument had a row of small colored buttons going up the side and a clear plastic tip. Other than that, it was smooth and unremarkable.

"This is a medical scanner created by the Department of Mysteries for…unique cases. I'm going to run this over you from head to toe, with special emphasis on the area around your scar. It will collect any data we need to determine what, if anything, is unusual about you."

"You mean other than having a dark wizard gestating in my head?" Harry asked.

"Harry, don't be difficult."

"Hermione, I'm here, aren't I?" Ignoring her frown, Harry motioned to the scanner. "Are you sure it won't hurt?"

"Mr. Longbottom said he felt nothing during the examination and after he regained consciousness. It is designed for nothing but data collection."

"Right," Harry said. "That's why I have to be unconscious."

"That is merely for your comfort," Dumbledore said. "Previously, people have reported experiencing strange sensations—hallucinations and the like. If you prefer, you may remain conscious."

"No, I'll let you knock me out," Harry said. He looked at Hermione.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Nodding, Harry sat on the examination table and lay down. Hermione felt his nervousness and touched her hand to the crystal at her throat, hoping he could in turn feel how calm she was and that it would somehow help him. It wouldn't, not completely. She knew he felt the older wizard was going to hurt him. Nothing would convince him that wasn't the case, short of an end to the entire experience. Hopefully, that day was a long way off.

"You'll tell me the results as soon as possible?" Harry asked.

The Minister nodded and secured the straps around Harry's arms and torso. "Just relax, Mr. Potter. There is nothing to fear." He placed a hand to Harry's forehead and within moments, the boy was in a deep sleep.

"I'm surprised you were able to get him here at all," Dumbledore said. "He seemed most upset with me yesterday."

"Can you blame him?" Hermione asked. "He has every right to know what you're planning and if—"

"Please, Miss Granger." Dumbledore waved at her absently as he began programming the scanner. "I heard enough from Professor McGonagall yesterday. Mr. Potter is well protected by a number of people." He stopped and turned to Hermione. "I don't suppose you told him everything else while you were going on about Horcruxes. He doesn't seem overly concerned about the other matter."

"He…I…" Hermione stopped and chewed her bottom lip nervously for a few seconds. "I wanted to be sure before I said anything. Of course he doesn't suspect, why would he?"

"Why indeed?" Dumbledore asked, turning back to Harry. Pressing a button, Dumbledore began the medical scan at Harry's feet, his eyes narrowing as the scanner immediately let off a pale orange glow at the tip. The glow grew stronger as he moved up, increasing to a near-blinding intensity as he passed over Harry's chest. The Minister pressed another button and the glow receded, only to shift to a bright red as he waved it over Harry's head. He held the scanner still for a long moment, letting the instrument collect as much data as possible before turning it off and slipping into the pocket of his robes.

He turned to Hermione. "It is as I suspected. Did you bring something?"

Hermione nodded and searched through her bag until she found the clear glass globe. With a shaking hand, she pulled it out and held it out to Dumbledore.

"The prophecy? Fitting," he remarked. He glanced down to make sure the straps securing Harry to the table were secure.

"I…I just know Harry will never let anything happen to it," she said. "Are you sure this won't hurt him?" she asked.

"Miss Granger, any harm done to Mr. Potter was done by himself a long while ago. I merely seek to provide the solution _you_ asked for," Dumbledore responded. Pulling out his wand, he held the globe in his other hand over the prone boy and began.  


* * *

  
There had to be another way. Always another way, Hermione thought. She sat back onto Harry's bed and studied the globe in her hands. She turned the clear glass over and watched as the smooth surface reflected the scant amounts of late afternoon sunlight coming through the window. After all she'd seen and heard of Harry's past, she knew the best way for him to survive whatever might happen would be to have a second plan, a back-up in case things went horribly wrong. Half-baked plans had gone awry before and he'd survived it, but who knew what the rules were now? Would his mother's protection last in a world where she was still living? What if Dumbledore was wrong and Voldemort would be strong enough to fight them? What if he was wrong and only one of them could kill him, once he chose who to fight first? What if the prophecy was wrong and they were both headed for death?

Hermione had rarely taken chances in her life. She wasn't going to start trusting in the barest of hope now. Not when everything was on the line. Harry would understand it if he knew. Even if he didn't entirely agree, he would know in his heart of hearts that being prepared for the worst was more realistic, more honest than expecting only the best. Though, honesty wasn't something Hermione really wanted to think about these days. Not if she wanted to continue functioning normally.

With a grimace, she stood from the bed and pushed the globe back into her bag. She'd have to keep it in her room. She knew Harry would keep it safe, but the idea of having something of his close to her at night was comforting. At some point, even the hours they spent alone before they split into their dorms at night wouldn't be enough for her. Not if she had to get all of him she could before possibly saying goodbye for the last time. Again.

It didn't matter how tired she was, how wanton it made her feel sometimes, Hermione felt no shame in admitting to herself that she craved Harry's touch with a yearning that went beyond physical. Having his love had made him as much a part of her as her hand or mouth and she knew, as she had for a while, that losing him would probably do more than cause her sadness. Something inside her would die if he took his last breath. It probably wasn't healthy to fixate over anyone that way, but who would ever tell her that loving Harry enough to want him to live through the worst possible scenario was wrong? No one she'd listen to.

"Hermione?"

Hearing the tentative voice call her name from across the room, Hermione looked up in surprise as Lavender walked across the dorm towards her, stopping near the foot of Harry's bed.

"Can we talk?"

"I…sure," Hermione responded. The blonde didn't sound nearly as hostile as she'd been all week, and certainly nicer than Parvati had been lately. Being alone in the boys' dorm with her was probably safe. Besides, she could defend herself better than Lavender.

"I just wanted to accept your apology from the other day," Lavender said. "I also need to make one of my own. I was acting like a brat and I know it. Neville…" She smiled ruefully. "He made me see how hard everyone has it. And after hearing all of Harry's story last night, I know what you've been going through. Can you forgive me for being a bitch?"

Hermione's eyes widened. She hadn't been expecting a fight, exactly, but this? "I didn't think I had to. Actually, I should apologize again. I shouldn't have said—"

"No." Lavender waved off Hermione's words. "We both said some things we never should've said."

_Not that we didn't mean them_, Hermione thought. She didn't need to say that much out loud. She could tell from the other girl's expression they were thinking the same thing.

"Can I ask you something?" Lavender smiled as she said this, but Hermione sensed something odd behind it. Her hand moved to stroke over the crystal at her neck and she nodded. "How…?" Lavender stopped and an uncharacteristic blush colored her face. "I know this is none of my business, but what is it like with Harry? Now?"

"I—"

"No, I don't mean the sex," Lavender blurted. She looked around and pulled out her wand to close the door. She whispered, "I do mean that. You guys were together for a while and then he's just gone and replaced with someone else and…I know they're the same, but they're really _not_ and you seem so happy now and I just…" She shrugged and lowered her eyes, letting her rambles hang in the hair.

Hermione wasn't sure if it was more appropriate to slap the girl for her nosiness or cry on her shoulder. If anyone could understand what it was like for a boyfriend to tell her something life-changing, it would be the girl standing before her. But Lavender Brown was one of the last people she'd confide in. Even if she was one of few people in on Harry and Neville's secret.

"I love him," Hermione said simply. It wasn't that simple and she knew it, but she didn't have time to get into the complexities with someone who really only wanted the simplified version of boarding school romance. "The whole thing is crazy and complicated, but at the end of the day, I love him. I want him to live and I'm willing to do everything I can to make that happen. And, as much as I loved him before, I've gotten to know him now and…I love him even more," she whispered, recognizing the words as true.

It was the first time she'd said it and actually meant it, but Hermione knew if she had a choice to go back to the way things were, she'd choose the obsessive, consuming craziness she'd been experiencing the previous weeks over the fun and quiet playfulness she'd had before. She'd treasured her previous relationship with Harry, but going through this with his other incarnation had brought out a passion in her that hadn't been there before, however close they were. Before, there had been sentimental attachment and attraction. Now? Now, there was a place in her heart only he could fill. Even if their relationship didn't last—for whatever reason—she knew she'd never have the same with anyone else. Nothing even close.

"I can't imagine how that's possible," Lavender commented. "With all the secrets you have to keep now and the way you were before—"

"Well, things change, don't they?" Hermione asked. "I didn't ask to lose him and Harry didn't ask to be a part of this prophecy. We're dealing with it the best way we can and I choose to be in a relationship with him as long as it's possible." She frowned. "And our sex life is none of your business. I don't go around asking you about Neville bending you over a table in Greenhouse Two, though I've heard enough about the two of you to write a book. You and Parvati would benefit from silencing charms when your discussions go past midnight. You do realize the rest of us don't want to know exactly how often he does that thing with his tongue?"

Before Lavender could respond, the door opened and Ron and Neville walked in. Both boys looked startled to see the girls standing next to Harry's bed.

"Neither of them looks hurt," Ron said, earning himself a glare from Hermione.

Lavender smiled. "We were just talking out our differences," she said. "Everything's fine now, right?" She glanced at Hermione briefly before walking away without waiting for an answer.

Neville smirked as she moved to put her arms around him. "I'll believe it when I see you both at defense practice not genuinely attempting to hurt each other."

"You know I only reserve my real fighting for Ron," Hermione said. "Someone's got to toughen him up. Where's Harry? Did he come back with you?"

Neville shook his head. "We insisted he take a shower right after Quidditch practice. He smelled like he'd been locked up in Ron's trunk for a week. He should be back in a few minutes." Neville squeezed Lavender around the waist. "Ready to head to dinner?" She nodded and the two turned and headed out of the room.

"I should go too," Hermione stated. "If Harry's already showered, I can just wait for him in the common room."

"Can you…would you mind waiting around?" Ron asked. "I'd like to talk to you."

It wasn't the sheepish grin he shot her that suddenly made Hermione wary, it was the soft blush and foot shuffling that accompanied it. It was strange seeing Ron nervous instead of blustering and loud. She didn't think she'd get used it any time soon. "No problem," Hermione replied. She took a step back and sat on Harry's bed again. "What do you want to talk about?"

Ron sighed. Hermione refused to giggle, even if he did sound like an overly dramatic girl at times. "It's Parvati. I think I've screwed up again."

"After I pushed you two to spend time together finally?" Hermione paused, willing that shrieky thing out of her voice. "Tell me what happened."

Following her gesture, Ron sat next to her on the bed. "We went for a walk around the lake after lunch. It was nice," he said, surprise widening his eyes. "At first I was kind of stuck for something to talk about, but then I remembered that you said to be myself and it was easy. Until I started going on about how helpful you were. She didn't exactly respond to that."

Hermione groaned. Hadn't Harry done a similar idiotic thing on a Valentine's date with Cho? Are all boys that clueless?

"Okay, look. Do exactly as I say the minute you leave this room. Tell her you think I'm ugly—"

"But, I don't—"

"Shut up Ron! Tell her you think I'm hideous and it's a bit pathetic that the only way I could get a boyfriend was to force myself on Harry." She held up a hand as Ron started to interrupt again. "Then say you feel sorry for me and the only reason you've ever taken my advice is that I'd know better than anyone how a desperate person can get close to someone they like."

Ron was silent for a minute. "That's really mean, Hermione. And not true. I can't say that."

"I know what I'm doing," Hermione insisted. "Doesn't matter if it's true or not. She's still upset with me about yesterday. She'll agree with every word of it. Especially since it implies that you're desperate to be with her."

"I suppose you're right," Ron said slowly. "It still feels weird to trash you to get her to be nice to me. I don't know about only being with a girl who wants me to put other girls down around her."

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said. "You've just started your relationship by saying something nice about another girl. You have to let her know—quickly—that you don't like me."

"That's rather stupid. I'm not going to keep doing that to you." He paused. "You're my friend."

"That's sweet, Ronald," Hermione said. "Don't go all soft on my account. You don't have to do it forever, just until she stops getting in a snit around me." Hermione shrugged. "Now that everything's all right with Lavender, Parvati will probably get over it in a day or two."

"Why can't I just wait until then?"

_Boys_, she thought. "I thought you'd love the chance since I keep beating you at practice," Hermione said. "Though, you should appreciate it. Lavender certainly didn't offer you any challenge last night."

"Challenge? Is that what you call it?" Ron asked. "You browbeat me until I can't focus."

"You can't focus because you're scatterbrained," Hermione teased. "Don't blame me for your shortcomings."

Ron laughed. "According to Parvati, I don't have any shortcomings."

"You obviously haven't gotten too far with her," Hermione said. They stared at each other a few seconds before bursting out laughing. She hadn't meant to say it, but when he started going on like that, Hermione knew he'd been about to lapse into that unfortunate boy habit of bragging about his physical attributes and…sexual prowess. At the thought of the fumbling redhead with a girl, Hermione doubled over in laughter, a few surprising tears slipping from her eyes. As their laughter settled, she noticed Harry standing in the doorway frowning. When he realized her eyes were on him, he quickly put on a smile and crossed the room.

"What did I miss?" he asked. "Sounds like it's pretty interesting."

"Nothing," they said simultaneously, which inspired another giggle from Hermione. "Ron was just telling me hysterically funny jokes."

"What can I say? All girls are a sucker for the Weasley charm," he said with a grin. "You'll have to write and tell me what to do next. After," Ron said, referring to her advice about Parvati. "Pretty sure we can't have a conference in the common room."

"I'll bring you something later," Hermione promised. She stood and moved to put her arms around Harry. His return hug was stiff. She turned to look up at him in question.

"Right," Ron said. "I'll leave you to it, then." Seconds later he was gone and Hermione was left with her unhappy boyfriend.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Harry worked his jaw open slightly a couple of times, obviously debating what he wanted to say. "No, nothing," he said finally. "Just have a lot on my mind." Harry punctuated this with a kiss that turned into several leisurely kisses before he stopped abruptly and pulled Hermione towards the door. Before going downstairs, she escaped briefly into her dorm—ostensibly to put the prophecy globe in a safe place, but also to give herself a minute to wonder, what could be going wrong now?  


* * *

  
Draco read the words on the page several times, hoping the meaning or the words themselves would change. He'd been expecting his aunt to go on one of her tirades about blood purity and "the Dark Lord's plan for us all"—the megalomaniacal bullshit she took to spewing when she was stressed. He'd thought she would press him—again—for the spell Dumbledore had forced him to leave out of his communications. What he hadn't seen coming, and did not entirely believe, was that his aunt had done something to her sister Narcissa. Hard to fathom, but there it was in black and white.

_If you won't cooperate for me, I'm sure you'll do it for your mother_, Bella had written. _I should say, if you expect to see her again, you'll find a way to give me what I need._

The nefarious bitch. She knew he'd never be able to find out if she was telling the truth or not. It wasn't like he could write to his mother. He couldn't get out so much as a postcard without McGonagall or Dumbledore watching him. If her plan was to piss him off so that he'd take definite action for one side, she may have just done that. If Bella's plan was to scare him into getting her a spell or something else that would help fix whatever Dumbledore had arranged for her to do to the Dark Lord—well, she may have done that too.

For the first time that he could recall, someone had thought further ahead than he. This was sick. The lure of power was there, but Draco would not work underneath that woman if he could help it. He didn't want to side with Potter either, not for Lucius's sake, but because the Minister had threatened him. However angry he'd been the previous weeks, he had no wish to hurt Harry directly—not if it would bring down the wrath of all of his friends and half the Ministry. Revenge still seemed like a sweet idea in the abstract, but it had long since begun looking like it was more trouble than it was worth.

He was still deeply unhappy with the bastard, but Draco knew if he'd been in the same position—Harry's stepfather coming after him—having him arrested would be the minimum of what Draco would've done. Not that he considered Potter's actions a favor or empathized completely with his old friend, but Draco knew what his father could be like when he was doing something on behalf of "the cause"—a cool, calculating version of his disturbed aunt. Having gotten in the way, Potter had a real reason to fear him. One that Draco never would've been brave enough to take on himself.

Still, he wasn't forgiven for his part in Lucius's arrest. After he had cooled from his initial rage, throwing that crazy woman a few clues had been the furthest Draco had thought he'd have to take it. Was it cowardice? Maybe. Self-preservation, more like. So far, his actions had kept him safe from attack on both sides. That was the only thing that mattered. Now, what would he have to do to keep his mother safe? Murder Longbottom and Potter in their sleep? Tell Bellatrix about the strange conversation between Potter and Granger he'd overheard?

So much for family loyalty.


	12. Honor and Purpose

"Why does it keep coming out to eleven?" Hermione mumbled.

At his girlfriend's question, Harry looked up from his homework. She'd been poring over the same sheets of parchment and talking to herself for nearly an hour, apparently no closer to a solution than she had been when she'd sat down in the library. He had considered asking her if she needed help. Spotting the Arithmancy books nearby, Harry decided he was better off not asking. He had given up attempting to understand the complicated numeric method of prediction years before.

Without warning, Hermione swore loudly and shoved the topmost parchment across the table with one hand. It knocked into a bottle of ink and she swore again as the ink spread across the table.

Harry frowned as she cleaned up the mess, his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just this Arithmancy chart. I don't think I'm interpreting it correctly," Hermione said. When the ink had been siphoned back into the bottle, she picked up her parchment and scanned the charts and notes she'd been working on. "I should be able to predict what will happen, but for some reason I can't. Maybe I should ask Professor Vector what it is I'm not seeing. Maybe there's another method." She looked up at Harry with tear-filled eyes. "I see you don't understand," she said quietly.

"One method is to use both your names against You-Know-Who's and determine which of your names calculates to a more powerful number. It's very basic and not a surefire means to decide anything," Hermione explained. "It's more a way to determine your general life path and strengths than anything specific. You and Neville calculate to the same number, which not only indicates that you should definitely work in unity, but the number itself shows you'll find a completion to your journey together. We already knew you'd have to work together from the prophecy. As far as You-Know-Who is concerned, using both his given name and the one he's taken for himself, it's determined that you and Neville should beat him in any contest if you work together," she said.

"By becoming Lord Vo—" She paused. "By becoming someone, _something_ else, creating multiple Horcruxes and other horrendous things, at his core he has become less powerful," Hermione said. "He sealed that by attacking both you and Neville as children and transferring some of his powers to you," she added, reminding Harry of Dumbledore's initial prophecy explanation.

"Of course, I got nearly the opposite result using a supposedly more reliable method," Hermione remarked, looking down at the parchment she'd pushed away. "You and You-Know-Who appear to balance each other and Neville could either represent a conflict to that balance or the deciding factor in a victory. Some dates are luckier for you than others, some for Neville, but very few are powerful for both of you. And, taking your birthdays into account, the two of you together should have strength and good fortune to combat You-Know-Who's power." She sniffled. "Also, I've gotten eleven several times for you alone—in your birthday and with several future dates—which could either mean exceeding beyond conflict or…peril," she whispered.

"Proper application of Arithmancy has never failed to predict specific events of the future." Hermione sighed and shuffled through her notes until she came to another page. "I don't know if I have the wrong numbers or if I don't fully understand the methods, but I can't predict what will happen with you and Neville and You-Know-Who." She waved a hand in his direction before Harry could comment. "Of course what I just told you applies. I can predict what's most likely to happen, but there are so many conflicting numbers and I have no way of knowing when—" She stopped talking abruptly and swore again, wiping at her eyes quickly.

Harry reached across the table and covered one of her hands with his. He hadn't understood most of that rambling explanation, but he could see that she was upset about her conclusions. Of course, he also wasn't comfortable about any prediction that showed him in peril. He just wasn't going to worry himself about it like Hermione was. Hadn't Dumbledore told him his fate had already been decided? Not a comforting thought, the idea that there was little he and Neville could do in the face of the inevitable. Realistic, but disturbing nonetheless. Harry preferred not to think about it.

He squeezed Hermione's hand. "It may just be that this is the first situation that's impossible to predict," Harry said. "I'm sure the professor will tell you that."

"You don't understand!" She blurted in a raised voice. "The two of you and You-Know-Who together represent eight, a pair of opposites. It's the least predictable number. It could represent total success or total failure. Bellatrix Lestrange has the same number. There are several dates in the next few weeks that come to the same," Hermione said.

"I've looked at your birthdays, your power traits, and your life paths using two different conversions." She held up several parchments covered with lines and numbers for Harry's inspection. "I'm also trying to see if you'll even be alive past a certain date and the result is mixed with both methods," Hermione said, her voice shaking. She sniffled. "It doesn't make any sense." She let the parchment fall to the table and wiped at her eyes again. "It's never failed before," she repeated. "I need to do more research." Before Harry could say anything else, she pulled her hand from beneath his and disappeared behind the next shelf.

A minute later, he was up and after her. Harry found Hermione at the far end of a row in the back of the library, leaning against a shelf. When he reached her, she turned into his arms immediately, crying against his shoulder as he held her.

One of the worst aspects of their situation was that they hardly got to spend any time together where one of them wasn't preoccupied. They were constantly thinking about the inevitable conclusion to the coming battle or bogged down with petty school concerns. For Harry, homework had become an afterthought. He only did it to force himself to spend a few hours thinking of something other than defensive spells and funeral arrangements. Sex had been a decent distraction, but over the past several days their nightly jaunts had tapered off. They'd ended up doing little more than huddling together on a chair in the common room, staring into the fire and lost in their own thoughts.

They hadn't talked about the Horcrux situation since the medical examination Dumbledore had conducted the previous Sunday. Harry had expected Hermione to spend all of her spare time in the library researching what little information was available on extraction and magical devices, but she'd devoted herself almost entirely to preparing for the coming battle and learning fighting techniques. It was so unlike her not to obsess over every detail, but Harry could hardly blame her for not wanting to talk about what it might take to remove the piece of Voldemort's soul. He spent a good deal of his own time working to not think about it.

Still, he hated to think they had both given up that easily. Her comments about Arithmancy were the first Harry had heard she was thinking of the full meaning of the prophecy and how it could affect he and Neville, especially with all they'd learned recently. She'd seemed so focused on the fight, he'd barely stopped to think of how everything else they'd learned was affecting Hermione, especially their barely discernable chance of winning.

Now, with her rambling explanation and the crying fit that had probably been building for a while, he began to question why he hadn't noticed how she'd been distracting herself sooner. His own complicated thoughts, he supposed. Then Harry wondered what comfort, if any, he could offer her. This wasn't like the situation before, with Snape. Harry had felt hoping for any salvation was pointless and she had kept pushing until he believed they could find a cure for the curse. Now, they shared the hopelessness that had come when Hermione had told him he was a Horcrux. What comfort could he offer knowing he might either die fighting Voldemort one day or be killed trying to get rid of the last of him?

Hermione sniffled and drew back from Harry, moving to lean against the dusty shelf behind her. "I'm sorry," she said. She cleared her throat. "I don't know what came over me."

"Hermione, I don't blame you for being upset," Harry said. "The whole situation is intense."

"But in your past I was never like this," she commented. She wiped at her eyes quickly with both hands. "I helped you do research and snuck around the school with you and never once was I a mess like I am today." Hermione shrugged. "That's actually the third time this week. I did it in Ancient Runes yesterday. I was sent out of class early so I could fall apart in my dorm in peace."

"I know we've talked about this before—"

"Harry please," Hermione began. "If you're going to say what I think you are, stop it now."

"If this is too hard for you, let me know. I'll understand," Harry whispered. She shook her head at his words. "It was different in my past because we weren't together, but I never showed you all of those memories when you were worried about me. There were a lot of times when it was hard for us. This is worse. We know more about what I'm facing and—look at me." Slowly, Hermione raised her eyes to his. They were brimming with fresh tears.

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

"No, of course not," he said. "I don't like the idea of being alone right now." He took her hand in his. "I know you're doing the best you can," Harry said. "I appreciate everything you're doing to help me, but if you're overwhelmed, maybe you should take some time to yourself." Harry bit his tongue abruptly and winced from the sudden pain. He didn't know where that had come from and didn't recognize the thought even as he spoke it. He felt Hermione's confusion as she looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I think we should talk about how we want to handle things—our relationship—until Dumbledore has a solid plan." He swallowed hard and looked down. It was getting to the point where just seeing her cry had the power to make him feel sick. He hated doing this to her, but he couldn't stop the pain this was causing any more than he could keep Voldemort from going after Neville. "I'm not saying this to hurt you, Hermione," Harry said. "But if it helps you deal with everything better, we can cool things down between us."

Something inside him began praying that Hermione would say no, she would follow him to the ends of the earth if it meant she could find a way to save him. It was a selfish thought, but he wasn't sorry. When she looked up at him, he knew she could read what he was thinking as easily as if he'd said it aloud. She understood that he didn't want to let her go as much as she hadn't wanted to let him go since they'd gotten close. They'd bonded in a way he never would've been able to predict when their relationship began. It was one of the factors that gave him the strength he needed to plan for this fight. The drawback was that being with her made him feel everything he might lose a hundred times more. Harry almost longed for the days when he could numb himself to the pain of what was happening to him, when he didn't have a family—real loved ones who could be left behind.

She was silent for a full minute before she spoke. "It would not help to have you pull away from me now. I know why you have this habit of just shutting yourself off from people when things get rough, but you're not going to do it to me," Hermione said. "I can deal with it." She sniffled again and Harry reached out a hand to her shoulder.

"I know you think that, but it's a lot to ask from anyone."

"You're not asking and I'm not giving you a choice," she responded. "I'm not going to just abandon you. I helped save you before and I can do it again." Before Harry could argue with her, she titled her head to the side and pointed. "Ron."

Harry turned his head as the other boy approached; he instinctively drew Hermione closer to him. As Neville followed Ron to where they stood, Hermione stiffened. Squeezing her against his side, Harry turned to his roommates when they stopped.

"Is it that time already?" Harry asked.

Neville nodded. "I just saw McGonagall. He's sent a message that he'll be here as soon as he wraps up a meeting."

Harry frowned again, his eyes going to Hermione. She was still sniffling, but had composed her face into a stiff mask. Feeling his eyes on her, she worked up a small smile.

"Are you going to be all right? If you need me here, I can meet with Dumbledore later," Harry said.

"I'll be fine," Hermione said. "We can talk later. Go to your meeting."

"I'll take care of her," Ron said, stepping closer. "Don't worry."

Harry frowned but said nothing. He and Hermione would need to have a long talk, and soon. It was bad enough they'd hardly talked about anything of importance over the past week, but for her to act like she was handling it well was just setting herself up for a major crash—more than just a crying fit in the library. Nodding once at Hermione and Ron, he brushed past Neville on his way back to the table to pick up his books and homework.  


* * *

  
It had to be done. Bellatrix knew it as surely as she knew the Dark Lord would rise again and be grateful to her—indebted even—for her tireless service to him. She would be rewarded, richly. She would take her rightful place by his side, Narcissa would forgive her and order would finally be in their sights. It was only a matter of time. That, and patience with the willful boy her sister had raised. Draco would have to be handled. She had been too soft on him in the past, but that was going to change. Bellatrix had no doubt he had already seen the error of his ways and would do his best to see her pleased before anything…irrevocable happened. And if he didn't? She would do what needed to be done to exact her revenge. Then she would find another way for the Dark Lord to return to strength.

She had no other choice. Without him, everything would fall apart. _She_ would fall apart. Bella felt uneasy in thinking of herself in those terms, but since the day she'd pledged herself into his service, she knew the Dark Lord held her in a way she could not break. She was not lost without him, but rather strengthened by his strength. She was not powerless without him, but invincible in his service. She was not merely a minion to do his bidding, but the unshakeable hand that would support him in his greatness. There was no greater honor and she would give herself fully to him until she passed from this life. Her life could serve no other purpose.

Bellatrix crossed the dimly lit bedroom and conjured a chair next to the king size bed. Sitting quietly, she gazed down at the pale, drawn features of her master and frowned. He had been gathering strength slowly over the past several days, but was nowhere near where he should have been were he making a natural recovery from an injury. But this was not natural, she reminded herself. This was her nephew's doing. A mistake for which he would pay dearly.

In the few hours Voldemort had been able to stay awake on his own, the Strengthening Solution Bella had given him had produced limited affect. There was something fundamentally wrong, and nothing Bella could do about it. She could hardly remove his soul and start over again, hoping the result would be better the next time. She could only suffer while he did and wait for her nephew to be forced to see reason. When the Dark Lord could be left for longer periods of time, she would be more proactive in finding a solution. For now, she was forced to wait. With each hour and day that passed, her plans for her nephew grew darker still.

A movement at the edge of her vision drew her unfocused eyes to the head of the bed. Voldemort shifted again under the heavy coverlet and opened his eyes slowly. He squinted at Bellatrix before his flat mouth settled into its customary frown.

"Is there news?"

Bellatrix barely had time to give the usual answer before Voldemort responded with a whispered curse. She wished she could do something to soothe his anger, but she deserved every bit of enmity he flung her way, helpless as she was to fix his situation at present.

"Where is Rodolphus?"

Bellatrix flinched at the mention of her husband. He rarely inquired of the others, and she had begun to think he was content with bedside service from her. Surely he was not about to send her away in favor of someone else. "He…knows I cannot leave you now," she said. "He and the others are doing work. In your name," she added.

"In my name?" Voldemort's eyes narrowed and he pushed himself higher on the bed; his hands slipped before he was finally able to settle himself against the headboard. "What can they do in my name? What I should be able to do for myself?"

Bella frowned and drew her arms around herself. "Each death is a tribute to you, my Lord. Every Muggle tortured and screaming before their life is taken is a show of the strength of support for you," she whispered. "The Ministry cannot control us. I thought you would be pleased to know—"

"You thought I might be pleased to know my strongest supporters are playing childish games with the lives of those beneath us?" Voldemort asked abruptly. Though his body was weak, the sudden strength of his voice as he spoke left no question as to how he would express his displeasure if he were capable. "I do not care what happens to them, one way or the other. I am concerned, as always, with your…half-formed plans to restore me to full power."

A corner of his mouth lifted in what Bella could only assume was his attempt at a smile. The gesture gave her a chill, but something inside forced her to draw closer to him. "I am doing my best, my Lord. Soon I will have the spell—"

"You have been saying that for nearly a week, Bella," he drawled, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips pressed into a thin line. "Am I to believe your nephew has been able to outsmart you this long?" His head tilted to the side as he observed her quick flush. "You, who I had thought so capable before. Perhaps I should have young Mr. Malfoy as my second if he is so cunning."

"No," Bellatrix said. "He is a child and he thinks this another game. I will straighten him out soon," she said, her voice hard. She thought fleetingly of her sister, one floor beneath them, a slow-acting poison keeping her paralyzed. If Draco did not come forward soon, he would regret it. In more ways than one. "Getting into the school will be complicated. But I will not leave you alone until I know you have the strength for it."

"How touching," Voldemort said. He closed his eyes. "Your efforts have not gone unnoticed." He spoke the words softly after several seconds of silence, as if responding to the silent pleas for undeserved patience in her eyes.

"Master, I—"

"Shh, Bella," he whispered. "Do not misunderstand. I am not overlooking your mistakes so far. But I am aware that you are doing a great deal for me." He opened his eyes and locked gazes with her. "You have sacrificed much for very little in return."

After waiting to make sure he was done speaking, she said, "It has all been worth it. For you." Slowly, she moved one hand over the coverlet until it brushed over his. When he didn't draw back, she curled her fingers around his. After a few seconds, the heat of her hand began to warm his skin. "I will do anything you need of me," Bella whispered.

"That is a broad offer," he responded, his mouth lifting in that strange semblance of a smile again.

Bella returned the gesture with a small smile of her own. "I am open to whatever you wish." She leaned closer to the bed, her breath suspended.

Voldemort's eyes held hers for several seconds again. Feeling the gentle probe of his mind into hers, she relaxed and let him read her unfiltered thoughts. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. Slowly, he turned Bella's hand over onto the bed, allowing his long fingers to stroke over her palm and wrist as he measured her offer. Without removing her eyes from his, Bellatrix reached into her pocket with her other hand and pulled out a vial of Strengthening Solution. She flicked the cork out of the top with her thumb and held it to his lips wordlessly, her slight smile broadening slightly as Voldemort worked the potion down his throat. When the vial was emptied, she placed it on the table next to the bed.

"Master?" She paused and her hand fluttered under his on the bed. "Is there another service you require of me?" she asked breathlessly.

Voldemort smiled before whispering a spell into the quiet that followed her question. Bellatrix did not have to look down to know that her robes had just disappeared. The sting of cold air against her skin was nothing to the way she became aware of her nakedness as his eyes slowly brushed over her body before returning to lock with hers. As her master pulled her onto the bed with his new strength, Bella's mouth parted on a small sigh.

There is no greater honor, she thought as he moved over her. No greater reward for a faithful servant.  


* * *

  
"What do you think he's going to say?" Neville asked.

Harry looked up at the other boy in surprise. After they'd come into Professor McGonagall's office to wait for the Minister, they'd taken to their respective chairs in silence. He didn't know about Neville, but he had a lot more pressing things on his mind than Dumbledore's pointless medical exam—what he was going to do about Hermione, whether he would have to say goodbye to his mother and sister for good, if there was even the remotest chance of surviving a fight against Voldemort, and what would happen if they did. The interference from the Minister almost seemed inconsequential compared to everything else.

It was even harder on Neville. Harry could understand why he was having a harder time dealing with the situation; he hadn't been attacked nearly every year he'd been at school. He'd been thrust into the situation with no warning. Knowing your life could end at someone else's hand in a short time wasn't something one just got used to. While Harry could easily prioritize his thoughts and choose where to put his energy, Neville was busy trying to focus only on what was most important to everyone else—a task that would drive him crazy when it came to dwelling on the details of what might happen.

"I don't know what he'll say," Harry responded after a minute. "I expect it won't be much to help us. What could he possibly find that would be different from what we already know?"

"A way to get it out without killing us would be nice, for starters," Neville said. "I can't believe he's known we were Horcruxes all this time and never said anything."

"He claims he only suspected," Harry reminded him. "The proof was when we collapsed in class a few weeks ago." Harry looked down at his hands. "I don't know if we should believe him on that, but I'm willing to go along with it for now. Especially because nothing major had happened with your scar before."

"Right." Neville reached up to brush at the jagged edge of skin along his jaw line. "Still, if he suspected before—"

"You'd rather he scared you half to death with this theory when you were eight instead of knowing for sure?" Harry asked. "I don't think that would have gone over well."

"You're right," Neville said. "Gran would have had a fit. After everything you've told me, it still feels like he could have told me something a lot sooner. Look what his silence almost did to you in your years at school."

Harry leaned back in his chair. He'd thought about that a lot over the past few weeks. He'd been blaming Dumbledore for most of what had happened, when this version of him wasn't really at fault. He wished he'd gotten the chance to talk to his former Headmaster before he'd time traveled. At least then he would know why he'd held so much back, especially his fifth year—when it was long past time for Harry to have answers.

"I don't want you to think I'm defending him," Harry began. "My past is different from yours. He definitely should have told me more than what he did. I grew up away from the Wizarding world and I was getting attacked at school from my first year. He should have said something, even if it wasn't everything.. With you…he had no way of knowing any of this would happen. I expect he thought it would be easier not to tell you any details of what happened to your parents if nothing was going to come of it in the future."

Neville shrugged. "That sounds close to what he said to me after the funeral. He didn't want to worry me over something that might not have an affect on my life. But how can he say that if he really believes in this prophecy? Isn't that proof that You-Know-Who is going to come back until I can do something about him?" He shook his head and his eyes drifted to the floor between his feet. "I'm scared," Neville said softly.

"We're both scared."

"You're scared?" Neville asked, looking up. "I would think you'd be fine after everything you've seen and done."

"I'm scared because of everything I've seen," Harry responded. "Knowing how bad it could get from experience doesn't make it any easier to deal with." He glanced towards the lifeless fireplace before turning back to Neville. "I know we talked about this, but I think I should show you some of my memories. Especially the one from the end of fourth year."

"When Cedric was killed."

Harry nodded. "You need to see what he was like. I know Dumbledore says he's not at full physical strength now, but I'm not sure that will make a difference. For that matter, neither is the Minister."

"That's what worries me," Neville said. "For all his planning and secrets, he hasn't got a much better idea of what he's doing than we do."

Harry laughed shortly. "Yeah, I tried to tell Hermione that for weeks. Sometimes, I still think she's convinced that he has some grand scheme that will save us."

"Do you think he will?" Neville asked. "Save us?"

"We have to do this ourselves," Harry responded. "I think the most he can do is not get in our way. Hopefully, what he's done so far won't prevent us from winning."

Before Neville could respond to that, there was a burst of light and a whirring sound from the fireplace. Bright green flames appeared seconds before the Minister of Magic stepped through them. Quickly, he cleaned the ash from his robes before walking to where the boys sat and conjuring a chair to face them.

"Thank you for consenting to a private conversation," Dumbledore said as he sat. His eyes drifted back and forth between Harry and Neville. "I understand your need to have those you trust around at all times, but you may both find it beneficial to have an unemotional discussion of the bare facts and your current options."

"Ten more people died yesterday," Harry said in a dry tone. "I'd say we have a little more to discuss than bare facts."

"We are doing the best we can," Dumbledore said. "The Auror Office is swamped with owls every time there's an attack and a number of them have been false alarms. Hit Wizards managed to capture three Death Eaters yesterday. Bellatrix Lestrange remains in hiding, probably with Voldemort. But, that is not why I wished to speak with you today."

"You have the results," Neville asked.

"I'm afraid what I have to say is a bit more complicated than merely having medical answers for you," Dumbledore said. He leaned forward and took in both boys with a steady gaze. "There are no easy conclusions to this situation, but I suspect you both have known that for quite some time."

Harry frowned, remembering his hastily given promises to Hermione to try to control his temper and mouth around the Minister, in spite of how he felt. If this was another speech about how fate would lead them down the right path or some other rubbish, he wasn't going to yell anymore, he was simply going to walk out. If Neville wanted to be led to his death with no practical help, that was his business.

"The results have confirmed that the portions of Voldemort's soul you are harboring are dormant," Dumbledore said. "Regardless, as Harry experienced numerous times in his past, it is possible for them to affect both of you in terms of nightmares, visions of whatever Voldemort is seeing at the time, and perhaps enhancing your own magical abilities. What we do not know is whether Voldemort can use his connection to hurt you in any way. As he is unaware of the connection, that is a possibility we can only hope never occurs to him or anyone who works for him. Even if he is made aware of it, his soul was so unstable at the time your parents were hurt," he said looking back and forth between the boys, "it is possible that any connection he has is tenuous at best. That would explain why you were only able to experience his emotions when he was highly upset—when his feelings were out of control," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry.

"But he was able to send me visions towards the end," Harry said. "He was aware of it then and he used it."

"Yes, he used it to make you think you were seeing something that had not happened," Dumbledore confirmed. "The important thing to note is that he did not use it to control you physically. It is quite possible he will be unable to do so with both of you, especially given his current condition." Dumbledore sighed. "It is unfortunate that I cannot speak in more absolute terms with both of you, but as the use of Horcruxes is very rare magic and using a living object to house a portion of one's soul is almost unheard of—"

"If it's that rare, how would he even have learned how to do it?" Neville asked. He glanced at Harry. "You started to explain it to Harry before, but I can't see how he'd even get the idea to do something like that."

Dumbledore flushed and leaned back in his chair. "I don't think we should talk about that."

"It was a professor, wasn't it?" Harry asked, remembering that portion of their second conversation in the hospital. "Was it you?" His voice was quiet, but the accusatory note was unmistakable.

The Minister looked away briefly before answering. "I regret telling you it was a professor at this school. You both must understand, he was a very charming young man when he attended Hogwarts. It would never have occurred to any professor at this school that he would ever attempt to make a Horcrux, or that he would even be capable of the evil acts required to make one."

"Which one of them was it?" Neville asked.

"Someone who's still here?" Harry asked a second later.

Dumbledore nodded. "Professor Slughorn had no idea what he was doing at the time. I'm sure if he'd known what he could be aiding—"

"That man who keeps trying to get me into his office for tea?" Harry asked. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak in a calmer voice. "He told a student about something that horrible and he wasn't immediately fired?"

"No one knew what he'd done," Dumbledore said. "Even if Professor Dippet had known of their discussion, it is doubtful it would have led to his dismissal. As I said, no one would have believed Tom Riddle capable of such violent acts. I have viewed Professor Slughorn's memory of that day and he only gave Voldemort the most basic information about a Horcrux's use, little more than he might have found in a book in the school's library before they were removed. He did not give him instructions on how to make one. He also advised him against pursuing the subject further, though in a rather roundabout way," Dumbledore added with a frown.

"I don't blame Professor Slughorn for what has happened in the years since that conversation and neither should you. Tom Riddle was a very determined young man and making himself immortal was only one of his goals, for which he misused the trust of a great number of people before becoming the monster he is now. If Professor Slughorn can be faulted for anything, it is not discussing the matter with the Headmaster then." Dumbledore shifted in his chair. "He had an unfortunate habit of taking a shine to some of the brightest and most well-connected students, as you have now discovered," he said, nodding in Harry's direction. "Unfortunately, once they were in Slughorn's favor, he found it difficult to be objective about them. It never occurred to him to find the questions about Horcruxes suspicious."

"He's not secretly a Death Eater too, is he?" Neville asked.

"No," Dumbledore responded quickly. "As foolish as it may have been to give that kind of information to a student, Professor Slughorn is not in the least bit dangerous. He has never been known to support Voldemort in any of his actions since leaving school and I believe he would openly condemn him now if the current situation becomes like the first war."

"Is that what you think will happen?" Harry asked. "We're heading into a war."

"It is highly doubtful," Dumbledore said. "As I've said, a number of his supporters have been arrested recently and he is not available to lead the rest of them. With Bellatrix Lestrange acting as their leader—as she must since her nephew tells us she is forced to take care of Voldemort daily—I doubt they will be the organized force of destruction they once were, when their numbers were in the dozens. Unless something changes drastically, you can expect your life here at school to remain as normal, and danger to the Wizarding and Muggle worlds will be drastically reduced as more Death Eaters are captured."

Dumbledore clasped his hands together on his lap. "Before we can discuss anything else, I must tell you how I believe you can defeat Voldemort for good."


	13. Willing Sacrifice

"You know how to defeat him?" Harry asked. He leaned back in his chair, both eyebrows raised. He didn't have to look across the Headmistress's office to know Neville probably had the same disbelieving expression. "I assume you made a claim like that for a reason."

The Minister stared at him in silence for a long moment. Harry got the impression the man was either trying to read his mind or calm his own natural response to Harry's outburst. "I understand why you are angry with me," Dumbledore began, "but you must know this situation is no more under my control now than it was in your past. You have no one else to direct your frustration towards, but know I am doing to my best to help both of you. Everything I have done until now has been to that end."

"Like having Malfoy pass information to his aunt," Harry said.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Mr. Malfoy has been a bigger help to us than either of you will ever know, at great personal risk to himself. There are Aurors protecting the school not only for both your sakes, but for his as well. When I asked him to pass on an altered version of the Key, I knew the results would put him in a great deal of danger."

"From his own aunt?" Neville asked.

"She will hurt anyone who gets in her way," Dumbledore said. "If she feels he has betrayed her, their familial bonds will matter very little. She may have already reached that point." He paused and stroked his long white beard slowly. "I have no doubt that the only way for this to end is a direct confrontation. When I took action a few weeks ago, it was my understanding that the two of you would have to kill Voldemort's current physical incarnation together before addressing less immediate concerns," he said, gesturing to Harry's scar, exposed by the fall of his hair.

"The spell Draco Malfoy gave to his aunt was a part of the original Key with two major differences. Two ingredients were missing from the original formulation—the blood of one of Voldemort's victims being one of them," Dumbledore said, pointing at the two students. "Also, a small part of one of the reanimation spells was altered. Enough that the overall spell would work, but the affect is that Voldemort's natural magical ability—that inherent in him no matter how much damage his soul has suffered—would be suppressed for an undetermined period of time. As I see it, this is the only way the two of you will be able to defeat him. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is going to do all they can to prevent other Death Eaters in interfering what will ultimately be a battle to the death between the three of you, but it is your training and instincts that will be put to the test."

Neither boy spoke for several long moments. It wasn't as if either of them had expected to hear anything different, but some part of Harry had been hoping the Minister had come up with a plan that would leave them both with a little more hope. What they had now was the barest chance that they would be able to overpower Voldemort while he was weak and the hope that the protection from their respective parents would be able to do something for them when they had to face Voldemort one last time.

"It's going to be soon, isn't it?" Neville asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "I have discussed this with Professor McGonagall. She agrees with the idea in principle, though we are both wary of putting you in this position. The affects of his botched reanimation will not last forever. The longer you wait to confront him, the stronger he becomes, never mind whatever magic Bellatrix Lestrange will attempt to help him. She will likely never figure out the correct series of spells to fully restore his power, but she can help him gain temporary strength until he is able to fight. I also think it is likely she will fight at his side, whether or not he is at his normal strength."

"Because she doesn't know anything about the prophecy," Neville said. "She has no idea he transferred some of his powers to both of us and he has to fight me alone."

Dumbledore nodded his agreement. "If either of them knew the full prophecy, Death Eaters might have attempted to come after you in recent weeks. Bellatrix was already suspicious of the level of protection Harry had when she was still teaching at Hogwarts," the Minister said. "Even if she were to learn of the prophecy, she will not suspect he is a part of it."

"Not unless she puts it together with what happened in her class," Harry supplied.

"That is a concern," Dumbledore stated. "Still, the likelihood that she would guess at something so unusual as your time travel is quite small. If there is more to be heard on that issue, I am sure she will address it with her nephew." He paused to look at both Harry and Neville. "Have either of you spoken with Mr. Malfoy recently?"

Both boys indicated they hadn't.

"Bellatrix wishes to set some sort of trap for you." Dumbledore said, looking at Neville. "He has been hesitant in cooperating so far, but she has threatened him numerous times to ensure his cooperation. I suggest we take her wishes into consideration."

"You want to let her get to Neville?" Harry asked. He glanced at the other boy. Neville's mouth had dropped open in his surprise.

"No," Dumbledore said. "I want to let her think she has the advantage. I can supply you with a portkey so you may get out of whatever situation she draws you into. Also, we will be able to use it to trace her location."

"And what if that doesn't work?" Harry asked. "I was lured out of the school before, remember? It's not as if Neville will be walking in to tea. She'll be there to disarm him as soon he gets wherever she is."

"There are flaws in the idea," Dumbledore said. "My wish is to have Aurors follow soon after. If my information is correct, Bellatrix will not harm Neville in the meantime. From what little Voldemort knows of the prophecy, he may want to…commit any acts himself. He may not be able to do anything to that affect for a while."

"You're okay with them holding me for however long it takes him to get strong enough or how long it takes you to trace the portkey?" Neville asked. His voice had come out high and thin. He tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously. "That woman enjoys torturing people. She doesn't have to kill me to hurt me."

"Wouldn't it be easier for an Auror to go in with Polyjuice or something?" Harry asked. "That's got to be a better alternative than Neville being held hostage." He paused. "Unless you want him there."

Dumbledore continued, ignoring Harry's question. "I am not planning for a hostage situation at all. My wish is for someone to draw the Aurors to her hiding place and—"

"What about everyone else?" Harry interrupted. "They've been training with us for weeks and you want him to go in alone? Voldemort won't be alone. Even if Hit Wizards do manage to arrest most of them."

"I do not want to send a group of teenagers into—"

"But you'd send Neville by himself?" Harry paused, letting the question hang in the air. When he glanced at Neville, the other boy had folded his arms across his chest and was rocking back and forth slowly, his eyes lowered. "You've said you're not setting us up to die, but every time I talk to you, I feel something else. I'm not imagining things. It's like you're taking away all our chances. So it's only us and whatever Voldemort has waiting for us," he said quietly.

At that moment, the older wizard did something neither boy expected. He let out a soft sob. His eyes filled with tears before they coursed down both weathered cheeks. "I feel I am sending you to die," Dumbledore admitted in a choked voice. He cleared his throat and glanced back and forth between them. "Not purposely," he said, holding up a hand. "I know I have not always given you the best impression, but I have never sought to hurt you. The prophecy is clear. No matter what I or anyone else at the Ministry does to help, even with friends as your support, it must come down to the three of you."

He glanced back and forth at both boys as tears continued to fall. "As much as I may wish to protect you from this eventuality, it does neither of you any good to pretend you are going to have every helping hand to aid you. We will do our best to keep others from interfering, but it really is down to you," he said. "In the face of this evil, you are the hope of the Wizarding world and there is nothing any of us can do to ease that burden." The Minister reached up quickly and dried his tears before performing a silent, wandless spell to calm himself.

Harry and Neville exchanged a look. It felt strange to watch Dumbledore act this way. As much as he usually guarded his feelings, Dumbledore was doing little to shield Harry and Neville from how he felt now. Especially odd considering that Harry had long since thought the older wizard considered the two of them a means to an end in getting rid of Voldemort for good. As much as he wanted to believe that wasn't the case, this unusual display of emotion was the first indication Harry had that the Minister was thinking of them as people rather than placeholders in a prophecy.

"I've said this to you before Harry, but it needs to be said again. I know why, in your past, I never discussed any of this with you." Dumbledore glanced at Neville and his mouth pulled down into a deep frown. "It is quite possibly one of the worst things you can tell anyone about their fate, and yet the duty fell to me. I have to prepare you, not just with the truth of what you must do, but with the knowledge that you will most likely not live to see the other side of it. Then there is the added burden of the many lives at stake." He sighed and his shoulders sagged. "Children should never have to bear this kind of weight and there are a great many adults who would have given up long before now," he said.

"I do not believe fate decides what is best for us. I believe, as I always have, that our circumstances can bring out the best of our strengths and lead us to triumph, if that is what we are meant to achieve." Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I envy you," he said, opening his eyes and looking at Harry. "Your strength and your bravery. You have seen so many things in the past few years that even I would have had difficulty facing time after time. You confronted the man who killed your parents, fought his followers, and watched a friend die knowing he meant it to be you next. Voldemort could never understand how you managed to survive each time and why you continued to fight even when he had you cornered and nearly helpless.

"There is something to be said for your capacity to love, Harry." He turned to Neville. "I do not mean to disregard you in that respect, but Harry has faced the worst of things these past several years." His gaze went back to the other boy. "You know what it's like to risk everything to save a friend, to fight when all seems lost and you know what a truly special kind of magic it was that allowed your mother to sacrifice herself to save you. You carry that protection with you, always. It may not seem like it now, but you also possess the strength and compassion it took to get through everything in your past, even when you are not forced by your circumstances to show it every day. I have no doubt that Neville shares these qualities. It is a part of who you both are. It gives you the tenacity to fight back. And it is those unique qualities that could lead the two of you to win," Dumbledore said.

"I cannot pretend to know everything that may happen. For all my plans and the armies of people I could send to protect you, the best I can do is be honest and tell you to use your every strength, up here," he said, pointing to his head, "and here," he said, putting his hand over his heart. "Voldemort may have intelligence and the devotion of a deluded few, but you have something he will never comprehend. In your few years at Hogwarts, you inspired your friends to risk their lives to protect you, more than once, not out of fear of you as Voldemort might have done, but out of love for you. To be willing to sacrifice oneself is the greatest gift anyone can give," Dumbledore said. "You have never asked it of anyone and yet the world unknowingly asks it of both of you," he remarked, glancing at Neville again.

"There are no easy plans. There is no course that will soften the duty you have been given or ease the hopelessness you may feel. There is only the choice you have to make. Oh, yes," Dumbledore said, "you do have a choice. Neither of you has to fight. But if you do, you must do it willingly, and with all intention of finishing what he has started, whatever that may entail. I have tried to be strong for you and, in doing so, made you believe you could not trust me. Trust this," he said. "You can win. If I could take on this burden for you, I would," Dumbledore added, his voice cracking. "But I do not have what the two of you have. Your strength and the love that has touched your lives is more than many in this world have ever seen and it is the best weapon you have in this fight."

He stopped speaking again and cleared his throat, looking away briefly. "I feel the best way to handle this is to face it straight on. Face your fear and use your strengths to triumph together, if that is what will happen. I have done my best to put the odds in your favor," Dumbledore said. "But if you feel there is another way, another choice, it is your lives. I will not do anything to push you, and no one will think lesser of you if you wish to wait or do not want to fight at all. Ultimately, it is your choice."

Did they really have a choice after that? Harry looked over at Neville and knew he was wondering the same thing. As much as it may have seemed the older wizard was leading them to their deaths, all this time he had truly believed he was doing what was best for them. It was a difficult position to argue with; this was the weakest Voldemort would ever be. If the two of them were going to fight—as if choice was something they could take advantage of—there would be no better time. It would take years and a countless number of lives before they were both strong enough to fight Voldemort at his strongest. And even then, the odds would be further stacked against them.

"We have to fight," Neville said, just as Harry thought it. The boys looked at each other and an understanding passed between them. Together until the end. Voldemort's or theirs. There was not a choice to be made.  


* * *

  
A few minutes later they were outside of the Headmistress's office, headed towards their common room. After promising to come up with a plan to deal with Bellatrix's coming trap, the Minister had left the two boys alone. Now, not only were they sure of what they had to do, Harry had finally given over to the instincts that had guided him his first few years at Hogwarts and begun to trust Dumbledore again. It was a good, familiar feeling; he'd felt some of the tension leave him as he came to the decision.

Harry still wasn't entirely happy with the way the Minister had handled everything so far, but the prophecy and all that happened because of it were not his doing. There was no sense in continuing to be angry with Dumbledore for circumstances he had no part in creating. That didn't make it any easier for Harry to accept that he and Neville were most likely going to die. Within the next couple of months, if Bellatrix grew impatient. It was more than enough time to take stock of why he wanted to live, but Harry knew it would never be enough time to say goodbye.

They were around the corner from the entrance to their common room when Neville stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to Harry.

"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" Neville's voice shook as he spoke. He'd only caught Harry's eyes briefly before looking around the empty hall; he finally settled for looking down at his feet.

"We do have a choice," Harry said, echoing Dumbledore's words. "It may not seem like—"

"Of course it doesn't seem like much of a choice," Neville said. He looked up again. "You felt it in that office. Dumbledore didn't call it martyrdom in so many words, but he didn't have to. The world is depending on us, and not just the Wizarding world. He's going to be unbeatable and live forever if we do nothing. Did Dumbledore really expect us to say no when he was going on about love and how we're everyone's hope?"

Harry was silent. He'd lost a lot of his will to fight Dumbledore in that office, but he didn't know how to tell Neville that he'd accepted their fate as he had accepted his death sentence from Snape weeks before. That situation had worked out in a way no one could have predicted and, if Hermione was right, there was no way any of them could tell how this was going to work out either.

"Harry, tell me you believe we can win this," Neville said, breaking into his thoughts.

"I believe…it's not impossible," he replied after another long silence. "I'm not going to lie. It doesn't look good. I've fought Voldemort when he was at full strength and I was barely able to hold him off. Dumbledore was right," Harry said. He took a breath after saying the words. The admission felt a little strange coming from him, but it was true. "This is probably the weakest he's going to be, assuming Malfoy's been telling the truth about his condition. The truth is, it doesn't matter when we fight him."

"Of course it matters," Neville said. "We can keep training. We can be ready for anything he'll throw at us."

"Do you really think we'll ever feel completely ready for something like this?" Harry asked. Neville threw up his hands and backed away a step. Harry stepped forward and touched his friend's arm. He had a fairly good idea of what the other boy was thinking, but Harry knew his view was realistic. "Come on, think about it.," he said. "There is no way to prepare for this, other than what we've already done. I don't know about you, but I think we've trained enough. Tonks and Professor Lupin have taught us everything they can."

"We're still working on learning Occlumency," Neville pointed out. "Didn't you say he's good at Legilimency?"

"He's good at everything," Harry said. "But right now he's weak. Look, I know you're scared. I can try to fight him by myself, but—"

"I'm not going to let you do this alone," Neville said. "I can't. You know that by now."

"I know. And everyone else feels the same way," Harry said. "It all comes down to us working together. We might be able to defeat Voldemort, while he's still weak."

"Assuming Malfoy's been telling the truth. That's what it really comes down to," Neville said. "I have to ask, do you really trust him? You've told him as much, but I know you still haven't told him about the prophecy. Are you willing to risk our lives on Malfoy assuring us You-Know-Who is practically bedridden?"

"Dumbledore is sure of him, for whatever that's worth," Harry said. "And if Voldemort had been seen around when Muggles were being attacked, the Minister wouldn't be able to keep that out of the papers. What other explanation is there for him not being seen in public?"

"I don't know," Neville said. "I just can't shake the feeling that Malfoy is hiding a lot more than he's telling. He won't even tell us how his aunt is communicating with him, if she really is, and we're just supposed to take his word that she—" Neville stopped speaking and his eyes narrowed at a point over Harry's shoulder. "Speaking of the devil's helper."

Harry turned and watched as Draco made his way down the hall towards them. Before he got close, Harry noticed the drastic changes that had taken place in the days since they'd last seen each other. Draco walked with his shoulders sagged; his entire body appeared smaller and almost folded in on itself, as if he'd been deflated. When he got closer, Harry noticed the dark circles under both eyes and that his skin had taken on an even more remarkably pale pallor.

Draco looked back and forth between both boys as he stopped before them in the hall. "Did he tell you?"

"Tell us what?" Neville asked.

"About the threats to both of you," Draco said. "I wrote to Dumbledore about it last night, but I never heard back from him. I wasn't sure if he'd warned you."

"He told us you might be involved in however your aunt's plan is supposed to be carried out," Harry said.

Draco frowned. "Of course he told you that part. But he didn't tell you anything else, did he? She's out of her fucking mind. I told her this wouldn't work, but she wants me to put both of you under the Imperius Curse and then use the Floo Network somewhere in Hogsmeade to take you to my house."

"Is that where she's hiding?" Harry asked.

"No." Draco sighed. His gaze drifted around the hall before returning to Harry. "If I knew where she was, I'd go after her myself."

"I doubt that," Neville put in. "Isn't she supposed to be threatening you? I don't think even you're bold enough to confront her about it directly."

"You know nothing about what I'd do," Draco said, his voice suddenly loud. He turned to Neville. "Aunt Bella told me she took my mother. I haven't heard from her in over a week. For all I know, she could already be dead." He coughed and looked away from them again briefly. He took a shaky step backward. "I told you I didn't want to be involved in this at all and now I feel like I don't have a choice."

"You had a choice before," Harry said. "You didn't have to give Dumbledore any information."

"He was going to put me in Azkaban over something else I didn't have a choice about." Draco took a step back and raised an arm to motion between the other two boys. "You have no idea what it's like. You've got everyone on your side, willing to defend anything you do and helping you. The Minister has been threatening to keep me and my father locked up for life if I don't help you and that crazy bitch is going to kill the one person who's on my side if I don't help her. If she hasn't already." He looked at Neville. "And don't give me some sob story about how the Dark Lord is going to try to kill you again. He couldn't do it before and he's a mess now. _I_ helped do that. And you still don't give a damn what happens to me or my family, do you?"

Neville blushed faintly at the accusation and began to take a step forward. "Look, I—"

"We're both sorry for what's going on with your family," Harry said. He squeezed Neville's arm and pulled him back. "We honestly had no idea all of this was happening. You're right, Dumbledore never told us. But you have to admit, your father—"

"Don't talk to me about him," Draco said, his eyes narrowed. "You don't remember losing your own and you've had your mother all your life. You have no idea what this is like."

"I understand better than you think," Harry said quietly.

"No, you don't," Draco responded. "I'm not going to make any excuses to you for what my father did and I don't particularly care what you think of me at this point. I just came to tell you I'm done with this. I did everything Dumbledore asked of me and I doubt he even bothered trying to protect my mother."

"But he's protected you," Harry said.

Draco laughed shortly. "Has he?" He crossed his arms again. "There's protections around this school for the two of you to work on whatever plan he's come up with. He could care less what happens to me and I've stopped pretending he's going to help me and my father."

"So, you're done. Does that mean you're not going to help us at all?" Neville asked. When Draco turned to look at him, he met the other boy's stare for a few seconds before looking at Harry. "I know we haven't been as nice to you as we could have been and I'm—I'm sorry about that. I do actually care how many people are getting hurt over this. Even people I'm not particularly friendly with."

"I'll take that for about as much as it's worth," Draco responded. "Before you ask, I'm not going to start working against you because the Minister turned out to be an asshole. I don't want to see that woman win, but I'm not going to be totally involved with either side. If my aunt tells me exactly what she's going to do, I can try warning you directly. That's the most I'm willing to do. In spite of what you think, I'm not trying to see you killed."

That last statement had come as a surprise and neither boy knew how to react. When Draco turned to walk away, Harry called out to him. "Look, if we hear anything about your mum—" He looked at Neville. "We can't guarantee that we'll be able to help, but—"

"Fine, Potter," Draco said. He raised one hand in a half-hearted wave and walked to the nearest set of stairs.

After they had been alone for a minute, Neville said, "I was being an ass, wasn't I? Of all people, I should know what it's like to lose a parent."

"We both do," Harry said as they continued walking towards their common room. "Don't worry about Malfoy. Dumbledore's the one who screwed him over, but he doesn't have a reason to take it out on us. We have bigger problems to worry about."

"Like how we're going to tell Lavender and Hermione about the so-called plan," Neville said. "I don't know about you, but I'm willing to let Lavender think we've got this all figured out. She's scared enough as it is."

"I could try that," Harry said, "but I think Hermione would know I'm lying before I could even finish saying it. She's always has me pretty well figured out, even when she doesn't say anything."

"I'm starting to get that same feeling from Lavender," Neville remarked. "I'm not sure it matters what I say to her at this point, she's expecting the worse."

"You have to decide," Harry said as they neared the end of the hall. "Do you want to give her false hope about what might happen or let her deal with how she feels now, when you can talk to her?"

"So you do think we're going to die." He stopped outside of the Fat Lady's portrait and eyed Harry. "You've practically said as much."

"I think when it comes to the people closest to us, there's no point in pretending otherwise." Harry shrugged. "Odds are in our favor, but I can't look Hermione in the eye and tell her everything's going to be fine. She has a hard enough time dealing without me lying to her. What you tell Lavender is up to you, but I can't do it. I'm preparing for my death and Hermione has to be as well." When Neville said nothing in response, Harry gave the password and the portrait swung open to admit them into the Gryffindor common room.  


* * *

  
Hermione finished the tea and placed the cup on the table next to her before pulling her legs up onto the sofa. She offered Ron a small smile. "Thanks for that," she said motioning to the cup. "It helped more than I thought it would."

He shrugged. "Sometimes something simple works." He paused. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

At his mention of her behavior in the library, her eyes began welling with tears again. She sniffed and brushed at her eyes with her sleeve quickly. "I'm quite sure I don't want to discuss it, Ronald." Hermione glanced around the common room. No one was watching them, a change from when he'd brought her into the room, hysterically crying for the second time that day. Ron's suggestion of tea had helped, but it hadn't hurt that Hermione had taken a small vial of Calming Draught. Not that her almost daily doses of the potion were doing much to help her keep her reserve overall, but occasionally numbing her emotions was a better alternative than breaking down every time she let herself think of something other than school work.

"Hermione, you're not doing well," Ron said.

"You're very observant today," Hermione remarked. "Are you paying the same amount of attention to Parvati as you are to me?"

Ron blushed and looked around the room. "I haven't seen her since dinner yesterday, actually."

"And you don't think your maybe girlfriend will get a bit upset at you being around me so much?" Hermione asked.

"I think she understands that we're all having a hard time," Ron said. "At least, I hope she understands that. She sees how Lavender is."

"Why don't you go check up on her?" Hermione asked. "I think she and Lavender mentioned something about visiting Professor Trelawney."

"I told Harry I'd take care of you," Ron said. "I could tell he was really worried about you."

"He's worried?" Hermione sighed and lowered her voice. "If either of us has cause to be worried, it's me." She wrapped her arms around her legs and let her head drop to rest on her knees.

"But that doesn't mean you have to feel alone, right?"

Hermione frowned. "I don't seem to remember you finding it this easy to talk to Parvati about feelings."

Ron shrugged. "You taught me how, remember? Besides, it's easier to talk to you because I don't see you the same way I see her."

"Well, thanks Ron," Hermione said with a small, humorless smile. "As always, I'm flattered by how you think of me."

"You know what I mean. But this isn't about me. If the worse happens, you'll need to talk to somebody about it." When Hermione said nothing, Ron reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "I don't have a lot of experience dealing with this kind of thing, but I'm pretty sure pretending nothing is wrong isn't helping. You should be able to talk to someone about it before and after the fight just…just in case." Ron blushed as she frowned at him.

"In case of what?" Hermione sat up straight. "Harry is not going to die," she said. Her voice was far more certain than her thoughts, but Hermione wouldn't tell Ron that. She could tell from his pitying expression that he believed her words as much as she believed Draco would turn out to be on their side. Thankfully, he was tactful enough to not say as much.

Before he could take the conversation further, a voice from behind them said, "Are you feeling better, Hermione?"

Hearing Harry's voice, Ron jumped and pulled his hand away from Hermione's shoulder.

She turned. "You look upset," she said, ignoring Harry's question. "What's wrong? What did the Minister say?" She stood as Harry came around the end of the sofa and grasped for his hand.

"Nothing we didn't expect," Harry said. "We already knew we'd have to do this on our own."

"What about the Horcrux situation?"

Harry frowned. "He said we'd worry about it when the time comes. If the fight goes the way we want it to." Hermione's eyes dropped and Harry squeezed her hand. "We need to talk about this later, but are you okay out here for now? Neville and I are going to look at my memory from the graveyard and—"

"I'm coming with you," Hermione said automatically.

"I don't think you need to see this, Hermione," Harry said. "It'll only bother you."

"The whole situation bothers me," she said, turning to walk up the stairs. "I don't think seeing something that's already happened is going to have much of an affect."

"I'm coming too," Ron said, standing to follow them.

"You don't have to," Harry said. "This is pretty scary and—"

"Harry, stop it." Hermione stopped at the foot of the stairs. "We're all involved in this, for better or for worse." She walked back to the sofa. "Stop trying to protect me from something harmless, a memory. If we watch this, maybe we can see things about the way You Know Who fights that could help you and Neville."

"Hermione, you can't pretend this is like defense practice and you're going to analyze Voldemort's technique. It's—"

"Harry, just let her come," Neville said. A hand touched his shoulder and he turned as Lavender stepped up next to him. Parvati entered the common room and came to stand behind her. "Hermione's right. There's no harm in everyone doing this with us since…they won't be able to fight with us." He looked over to gauge Lavender's reaction.

"What?" At Lavender's exclamation, several students turned towards the group. "Dumbledore can't do that," she said. "He's just going to let you go off on your own?"

"It won't matter if any of you try to help us," Harry said. "The prophecy says we have to do it ourselves." Lavender crossed her arms but said nothing as she leaned onto Neville's side. "Are Dean and Seamus in our room?"

"They're still in the library," Ron said.

"Good, then there's nothing in the way," Hermione said. Grabbing Harry's hand, she turned and led the group up the stairs to the dorm room.

An hour later, they sat around the room in silence, Harry, Hermione and Parvati on Harry's bed, Ron, Neville, and Lavender facing them from Ron's bed. It had been several minutes since they'd emerged from the Pensieve, but after watching one of their schoolmates die and the gathering and fight that followed, they were all at a loss for words.

Harry took comfort that Hermione hadn't started crying again, but he didn't know what to make of her clinging to him in silence, her expression troubled. He touched her crystal necklace and was surprised when a chill instantly swept over him as his finger made contact with the stone. Hermione looked up quickly and brushed her fingers over his, easily disabling the charm.

"Maybe it's better if we don't use it for a while," she said. Everyone looked over at Hermione as she broke the silence. "Does anyone have any suggestions for strategy?"

"I say we ignore whatever Dumbledore told you and continue to practice as a group," Lavender said. "The prophecy says that you'll have to finish him, but there's nothing that says we can't fight him and the Death Eaters together. You two can still deliver the final blow."

"You're right and we told him that," Neville said. "But that doesn't mean you'll be able to get past Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall when the time comes."

"I say we don't give them a choice," Ron said. "We've been training with you for a reason. If he's really going to let you both go through with this, our being there can't possibly hurt."

"He nearly said as much," Harry said. "But you all have to recognize that at the end, it has to be us. And Voldemort won't hesitate to kill any of you to get to Neville, you saw that with Cedric." He looked down at Hermione. "You can't stand in our way. No matter what happens. When it's time, you have to let us do this."

"As long as you promise to let us help," Hermione said. "No matter what Dumbledore says. I'm going to find a way around him. You need us and I would never forgive myself if—"

She stopped speaking and Harry squeezed her tight to his side. She didn't need to finish her statement. He knew what she meant and he saw the same sentiment reflected on the faces of their friends in the room. Dumbledore had been right. There was something in them that instilled a protective instinct in their friends, one that didn't have to be coerced or threatened. Harry only hoped it would be enough to give them an advantage when the time came.


	14. Turning Point

He felt her stare for several long moments before she said anything. Not that she needed to, as Harry could tell what she was thinking before the words were formed in her mouth. Hermione put a hand to his wrist, squeezing when he didn't turn to look at her. "Harry, we're not going to go over this again," she said. "You have to eat something."

Harry poked at the cold eggs on his plate with the edge of his fork. "I don't see why."

She frowned at his petulant response and removed her hand from his arm. "Because you're thin enough without nearly starving yourself for days," Hermione began. "You'll need your strength," she added, raising her hand to count on her fingers. "You've got an exam in Herbology and you won't be able to focus if you're hungry."

"I'm thinking of skipping it," Harry said.

Hermione frowned again, but said nothing. Harry was grateful for that small favor. After he'd yelled at her several days previous, she'd stopped questioning his decision to slack off on school work at a moment's notice. He'd argued that his marks wouldn't matter if he wasn't around to receive them. She'd had no response to that except to whisper that he was not going to succumb to a death sentence if she could help it before she left him with a chilly silence. Her silent treatment had lasted about as long as his appetite whenever he thought of the fight ahead. If a few pounds was all he lost in the next few weeks, Harry would count himself lucky.

He continued to stare at his plate as dozens of owls flew into the Great Hall bearing the day's mail. After feeding an owl a piece of toast from her plate, Hermione picked up Harry's letters and opened them. "This one's from your sister," she said, shoving the unfolded pages beneath his nose.

Harry dropped his fork and began scanning the pages in his younger sister's looped handwriting. Every time Raven wrote how much she missed him, Harry thought the idea of scrapping the whole fight and moving with his family to another continent became more appealing. Was it fair that he and Neville might have to sacrifice their lives for the sake of ridding the world of an inhuman monster? No. Not that fairness mattered. Nor would running. Voldemort would continue to destroy everything he could, whether the only two souls in the world who could help stepped up or not. It was merely a matter of surviving the inevitable. Not delaying and certainly not avoiding it altogether.

He turned to the next page Raven had sent and smiled at a drawing she had done of the two of them flying on his broom.

"Your mum must have charmed that for her," Hermione said, referring to the broom circling the page.

Harry nodded. "Raven wrote that this is so she can feel like she's with me at the Quidditch match next month. Mum hasn't told her I probably won't be there at all."

"Harry, not at breakfast," Hermione said.

Another rule, he thought. To keep her sane. Don't depress her with talk of death and Horcruxes before class or she won't be able to concentrate for the entire day. It was silly, as much as all her little rules for keeping their current lives as tame and normal as possible, while ignoring the reality. Harry did it for her, but only because he couldn't take the expression on her face when he began talking about what might happen.

Hermione had been trying to maintain a light attitude about the whole situation, only acknowledging the difficulty of what faced them when they were being pushed during defense practice. The rest of the time her attempts at normality were forced and, if he was going to be honest, bordering on sad. If Harry could figure out how to get her to talk before the fight happened, he would at least be able to go into it knowing she would be okay if the worst happened. Not happy, but accepting.

Since his and Neville's conversation with Dumbledore the previous Saturday, she'd barely let him get in ten words about the prophecy—whether it meant he and Neville could kill Voldemort or if all of them would have to die to rid the world of Horcruxes altogether. Dumbledore took it to mean exactly that, but he had promised to help them be rid of every trace of the dark wizard if they survived the fight. Harry's nightmares had returned, and with them the uncertainty of what might happen. At this point, Harry was only hoping to survive the tension and anxiety that had weighed on them all heavier than before these past six days. Tomorrow, at least, he knew he could spend in bed without having to worry about his professors as well as his girlfriend telling him he looked like he was on his last legs. Saturday would provide a welcome break from all of them putting on a brave face.

"Your mum wants to come by tomorrow," Hermione said. She waved the letter in her hand when he looked up. "She wants to know if we have any weekend plans."

"Just Quidditch and the other practice," Harry responded. "Would you mind writing back to her for me?"

"It's only going to worry her more," Hermione stated. "She's familiar with your handwriting and after reading this, I don't think she appreciates not actually hearing from you."

Harry shoved his plate into the middle of the table and turned to Hermione. "Then you'll just have to make her understand that I'm not in the mood to do things to make her feel better right now. If she's concerned about me, she can come train with us."

"I would think you'd want to talk to her as much as possible." Harry looked across the table at Neville. The other boy was frowning, his arms crossed over a package on the table. "As much as you've told me about how you wish you had your mum around when you were growing up, if I were you, I'd take every opportunity to talk to her now."

"Oh, not you too," Harry said. "The last thing I need is someone else making me feel guilty about it. I just know nothing I say to her is going to make her feel any better."

"Have you ever thought it's not about you making her feel better?" Hermione asked. "Maybe she just wants to hear from you."

"Right," Harry said. Harry looked down at his sister's letter again. The last thing he wanted to talk about was why his mum suddenly began writing to him every other day and wanted to visit for the first time in weeks. She was counting the days until his death just like everyone else. He didn't need to look into her eyes and get yet another reminder that his days were numbered—and the countdown was speeding up with each moment that passed.

He pointed at the package on the table. "What's that?" he asked Neville.

After frowning a bit at Harry's change of subject, the other boy shrugged. "Gran's sent me something. Probably another book of my dad's. I'll look at it after classes." He stood from the table and tucked the box under his arm. He motioned to Lavender. "Walk me to class?"

She nodded and grabbed her bag, motioning to Parvati with one hand as she stood. After giving Hermione a long look, Ron followed, leaving her at the table with Harry as he went back to staring at his cold food.

"You know we're just concerned about you," Hermione said after a few more seconds of watching him in silence. "I want you to take care of yourself and your mum just wants to talk. Maybe it will make things easier for you."

"Will talking make things easier for you?" Harry asked. He ignored her swift intake of breath. "You shouldn't tell me to do something you're not willing to do yourself."

Hermione began reaching under the table for her school bag. "I should go to class."

Harry turned and grabbed her arm, holding tight until she looked up at him. "You have to stop this," he said. "I might be dealing with it in a way you don't like, but at least I'm not in complete denial."

She snatched her arm from his grasp. "I am not in denial. I know exactly what could happen. I'm helping you prepare, remember? I just don't think there's any point in dwelling on the negative when you could be connecting with the people who care about you."

"I'd love to connect with you, if that's still possible," Harry said. He reached for her arm again and stroked his fingers gently against the spot where he'd gripped her before. "This has been rough for both of us, but it doesn't help that every time we're alone, you act like you can barely stand to let me touch you anymore. Our relationship has never been totally about physical stuff, but the way you've been acting the past week or so…did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not," Hermione said. "I didn't realize—it can't have been that long." She began chewing on her bottom lip and Harry could tell she was trying to remember the last time they'd had sex. "We've both had a lot on our minds," she said finally.

"Right, but we've known about Voldemort and the prophecy for a while. And didn't you just say it might be easier to deal with if we talk?" Harry pulled her closer until he could whisper in her ear. "I need you, you know that. I'll make you a promise. If you talk to me about this, really talk to me, I'll let you go on pretending that everything is going to be fine after we confront him." He stroked her hair back from her ear and kissed her cheek. "If you want, we can spend the night pretending like none of this is happening." Harry kissed her again, just below her ear, allowing himself a small smile at her sigh. Hermione leaned closer before glancing around the Great Hall and pushing him away.

"There isn't much to talk about, but I will if that's what you want," Hermione said.

"Good." Harry knew that statement meant as much as it had the previous Saturday, before she'd spent the rest of the night asking him to detail exactly what Dumbledore had said. This time, he would hold her to it.

"If you promise to go to all of your classes today and eat something," she added. Hermione looked up as the bell rang for their first class. The platters of food on the table promptly disappeared. "Lunch and dinner, then. You better polish off at least one full plate at each meal or you'll be lucky to only get the silent treatment from me. I mean it." After a quick squeeze of Harry's shoulder, Hermione picked up her bag and left the Great Hall.  


* * *

  
"I missed being with you like this," Hermione said. Harry traced a finger down the center of her back and she arched into his touch. "You were right, I should have been opening up more."

"I understand why you weren't." As Hermione turned over to face him, Harry pulled her closer on the bed. Briefly, he wished that he'd remembered to light the fireplace in the Room of Requirement, but didn't feel like getting out of bed long enough to beat back the creeping chill. "I feel like I've been going crazy the past few weeks," he said. "It can't have been any easier for you."

She sat up abruptly. "No, easier isn't the word I would use." Harry shifted on the bed to sit up next to her. "I'm not named in the prophecy, but I feel like my life is riding on it just the same. It's easier when I remember there are a number of people around who know what's going on and can support you and Neville."

"And you," Harry added after a brief silence. "You're getting plenty of support these days, aren't you?"

Hermione turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if anything happens to me, you'll definitely have Ron there to pick up the pieces," Harry said, frowning. As it had more times than he cared to recall, his mind went back to the way he'd found them outside of the library a couple of weeks before, Hermione caressing Ron's face, Ron blushing and smiling at something she'd said. He'd felt a hard punch to his gut nearly every time he'd walked up on them talking since then. "From the way he looks at you, I'm sure he'd enjoy it a great deal. He might even like to start now. He hasn't exactly been shy about welcoming you to cry on his shoulder."

Hermione clutched the sheet around herself at her chest, stood and backed away from the bed, eyes wide. "Have you lost your mind? You're worried about me and Ron?" She looked around quickly; Harry thought she might be scouring the room for something to throw at him. Her eyes settled on him again. "I'm scared to death for you and it's practically all I can think about. After all I've gone through to be with you—helping to save you from what Snape had done, _begging_ you to be with me, your mother practically calling me a faithless slag to my face—you really think I'd do something with Ron?"

"My mother—what?" Harry's eyes widened and he momentarily forgot the stupid comment he'd made.

"The morning of Professor Snape's funeral," Hermione said. "The talk I had with your mother that made me so upset."

"She said she was worried about us."

"That's what she told _you_," Hermione responded. "She told _me_ she thought my feelings had changed too quickly, either because I didn't love you before or that I'm only pretending to now so I won't have to be alone." Before Harry could dispute her comment, she added, "She also suggested I only convinced you to be in a relationship by offering to sleep with you." She shrugged and pulled the sheet tighter around herself. "I guess I've proven—to her and you—that I'm willing to use my body to get affection. So much so that you're willing to believe I'd sleep with Ron if you were gone."

At the expression in her eyes, Harry's body went cold in a way that had little to do with his naked state. He felt immediate regret for letting his own absurd jealousy get the better of him. The last time Hermione had given him a look even close to this was in this very room on her birthday, when she had been preparing to walk out. Harry took a step around the bed, reaching his hand towards her briefly before letting it fall to his side.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I don't know what made me say that."

She looked down. "No, it's all right," Hermione said quietly. "That's what you really think of me."

"No, it's not," he said in a firm voice. He frowned and let his eyes wander as he made his next admission. "I'm afraid to lose you."

"You have a fine way of showing it!" She pulled the sheet higher. "How many times do I have to tell you?" Hermione asked. "I'm never going to leave you. And I'm not just going to run off with the first bloke who is nice to me if the worst should happen. That should never be in question."

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I know it's stupid, but I can't help what I think when I see you together. You've been so miserable these past few weeks. I've done that to you." He stopped talking and looked away from Hermione, pulling his arms around himself. The cold was sinking in deeper. "With Ron, you almost seem like a different person," Harry whispered. "He's the only one who's been able to take your mind off of what's happening. Even if it's just for a little while." He looked across the room at his girlfriend. "Every time you smile at him or laugh at one of his jokes, it kills me because I don't know if it means you've finally changed your mind about being with someone who'd destined to die."

"You're not—"

"Hermione, please. This isn't like with the curse. We both know what's most likely to happen, especially with all we've learned about Horcruxes. It may only be a matter of how soon, not if. I've gotten lucky where Voldemort's concerned before, there's no guarantee it'll happen again. I have to wonder if I'm being fair to you," he said. "You felt selfish before for wanting me to love you as much as you loved me. I feel selfish now. I know I should probably let you go because it'll be easier on you when I die."

"You're not—"

"Hermione!" Her chin trembled. Harry looked away again as she began crying. "There are times when I think you might be better off with Ron or someone else who won't leave you the way I will," he said. "It might be easier on you if you leave now. We can be friends and—and you can lean on someone else. I honestly don't know how I'd handle that, but I would if I had to," he whispered. "I never should've said that about you and Ron. I know you'd never do that. I'm sorry I'm such an idiot."

He jumped in surprise as her arms wound around him. He hadn't heard her cross the room. "You are, but I love you anyway. I should have told you what your mother said ages ago, but I was afraid you'd believe what she said about me." She paused and Harry heard her sniffle. "I was also afraid she might be right," Hermione whispered. "I had been pushing so hard and you were resisting. For a little while, I thought you might have been right. Everything had changed and you couldn't be what I need."

Hermione pulled back from the hug and looked up into his eyes, her tears streaming freely. "I was wrong," she said firmly. "Don't ever think otherwise. We love each other and we belong together and I'm not giving that up for what might happen. I don't care how young we are. I don't care what other people think anymore. I don't care that you're a crazy person when it comes to jealousy and possessiveness and everything else," she said, a small smile and sniffle punctuating her words.

"I'm sorry," Harry said again.

"Shh," Hermione nodded and put a finger to his lips. "I forgive you. This time. But if you ever say anything even remotely like that to me again—"

"I'll deserve whatever you throw at me," Harry finished for her. He pulled her close to him and kissed her, tension slowly leaving his body as she kissed him back. In short order the sheet had been dropped, they fell back onto the bed, and Hermione proceeded to remind Harry just how lucky he was—if only for a little while longer.  


* * *

  
Hermione paused outside of the Fat Lady's portrait and waited for Harry to catch up to her in the dark. Frowning, she leaned close to the portrait. If she wasn't mistaken, there were a number of voices murmuring on the other side. "What time is it, Harry?"

He glanced down at his watch. "Almost one." He lowered his wand.

"Crap," Hermione said. "That's a lot of noise. There's people in the common room. Did you bring your Invisibility Cloak?"

Harry chuckled. "At this point, I don't think it matters if we sneak in that way or not. They're going to see the door open and close, aren't they?"

Hermione frowned. "I suppose you're right. We may as well take the risk of someone turning us in. We could always say we were doing Astronomy homework or something."

"Like Professor McGonagall doesn't know better," Harry responded. "Besides, we didn't bring any books with us. At least detention won't be half as bad with you," Harry said. He gave the password and waited for the door to swing open into the hallway.

The heads of several people in their house turned when Harry and Hermione ducked under the doorway and walked into the common room. In the center of the crowd Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin stood, the former frantically speaking to Seamus and Ron. Catching sight of the two students near the portrait hole, McGonagall stopped talking abruptly and shouted over the din, "Potter, Granger, where have you been?"

"I…we—" Hermione looked over at Harry and clasped his hand.

"We—we went for a walk," Harry said. "We stopped somewhere to talk and didn't realize how late it had gotten." The Headmistress's eyes narrowed at his thin excuse. She walked over to them and leaned close.

"I'm not going to ask you again," McGonagall said. "I need to know exactly where you've been."

"We were just down the hall," Hermione whispered. She looked around the room again. The other students were all staring, some whispering among themselves as they watched the confrontation. She leaned closer to Harry. Lavender pushed her way through the crowd and ran towards them.

"Have you seen Neville?" she asked.

"No," Harry responded. "Not since dinner. Why?"

"Mr. Longbottom has gone missing," Professor McGonagall said.


	15. Revelation

Harry and Hermione stared at the Headmistress for several long moments, both at a loss for words. Hermione broke the silence first. "It's Friday, isn't it?" she whispered. Harry turned to her.

"What?" Lavender asked. She grabbed the other girl's arm. "What do you know?"

"Ow!" Hermione snatched her arm from Lavender. "Nothing, I—" She turned to Harry and Professor McGonagall, both of whom had turned questioning looks in her direction. "Harry, do you remember when I told you certain days of the week and dates had bad potential for you and Neville?" Harry nodded. "Today is the tenth and Friday and I knew it could be—I mean, I wasn't sure something would actually happen, just that the potential is there and—"

"What are you babbling about?" Lavender interrupted.

"Arithmancy predictions for Harry and Neville. It's too difficult to explain," Hermione said, waving a hand in the air. She turned to the Headmistress. "Are you sure he hasn't just wandered off somewhere?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Miss Granger, surely you know that we examined all of the possibilities before declaring a student missing from this castle. Every professor, portrait and ghost has been looking for Mr. Longbottom since an hour after dinner. And yourselves," she added in a sharp tone. "I had begun to believe you might be in a great deal of danger."

"We were in the Room of Requirement," Hermione admitted. "I don't think ghosts can get into that room."

"I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't have the entrance sealed off if it'll help me keep track of the two of you," the Headmistress stated. "Did Mr. Longbottom say anything to either of you about going somewhere outside of the castle or leaving school grounds?"

"No, why would he do that?" Harry asked. "He knows as well as anyone that it's safer to stay here. The last time I saw him, he was in our dorm looking at his mail."

"That was the story I heard from Mr. Weasley," McGonagall responded.

Harry felt a headache coming on and began rubbing at his temple. "Have you tried using the Marauder's Map?" Harry asked. "I think I left it in my trunk."

"Professor Lupin made use of that the moment we determined the two of you were missing as well."

"A lot of good it did," Lupin said, joining them in the corner. He held up the folded parchment. "That room you told us about doesn't show up on it at all. I'm waiting to hear from Professor Slughorn, but I'm pretty sure Mr. Malfoy is missing from his dormitory as well."

"That sneaky little—"

"Lavender, we don't know he's done anything," Harry said.

She rounded on Harry and punched him in the arm. "Are you defending him? He's been on their side this entire time and now he's done something to Neville. This is all your fault!" Harry backed away as Lavender began shouting at him. "Dumbledore never wanted to involve Neville in this mess, not now! But you, you insisted and the Minister went along with what you—"

A sharp slap to her face stopped the rush of words.

"Lavender, if you keep blaming Harry for this, Neville won't be the only person missing," Hermione said. "Neither of them is to blame for the prophecy."

"But he is to blame for what happened to Neville and his parents," Lavender stated. "You can't deny that."

Hermione raised her arm again. "You are the most aggravating—"

"Ladies, not now," Professor Lupin said, stepping between them. "If neither of you has more information to contribute," he said, motioning to Hermione and Harry, "I need you both up to your dorms."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. She stood to the side and motioned both students in front of her, before following Hermione up the stairs and to the left. Professor Lupin followed Harry up the stairs and to the right, walking until they reached the fifth year boys' dormitory.

"What is going on?" Harry asked the moment they were in the room.

"You're leaving the school," Lupin said. Raising his wand, he pointed it at Harry's trunk and the cabinet next to his bed. Seconds later, his clothes began folding themselves in midair and landing in the trunk in neat stacks. "If there's anything under the bed or anywhere else in the room you need, I suggest you get it now."

"Where am I going?" Harry reached under his bed and grabbed his backpack. The Time-Turner shifted inside.

"You're going to stay with Sirius until we can figure out what happened to Neville." Lupin finished packing Harry's clothes and books and began levitating his trunk towards the door.

"I still don't understand," Harry said. "If something happened to Neville in here, shouldn't you be looking for someone who broke into the school? If someone strange was in our dorm, at least one person would have noticed, right?"

Lupin lowered the trunk at the doorway and turned. "Harry, it would be impossible for someone to break into the school. I've never seen protective spells around Hogwarts the way they are now. Nothing short of a Ministry order could get past the gates and I doubt that would pass Professor McGonagall's notice."

"There has to be some kind of weakness," Harry said. "You don't think any of the guards at the gate could have snuck Neville out somehow?"

Lupin shook his head. "Tonks has been there with another Auror since four. The day guards have already been contacted and they didn't see anything suspicious."

"Then it must have been—"

"Harry, you need to go. Professor McGonagall is waiting," Lupin said.

"Fine." Harry raised a hand to his temple as another sharp pain bloomed behind his eyes. Just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. He had begun following the professor to the door when something caught the corner of his eye. An opened cardboard box lay on the floor near Neville's bed. "Who's been checking the mail?" Harry asked as he walked towards the bed. He picked up Neville's wand from the coverlet and slipped it into his pocket.

"The guards at the gate. Why?"

Harry motioned towards the box on the floor. "What have they been checking for exactly?"

Professor Lupin shrugged as his eyes followed to where Harry indicated. "Cursed objects, anything that would carry a trace of Dark Magic. I get where you're going with this, but the sensors are quite strong and it would take a series of powerful spells to fool them. There's only a small possibility of that."

"What if it wasn't a cursed object?" Harry asked. "What if it was something simple, like a Portkey?"

"I doubt that could happen." Lupin glanced at the box on the floor again. "You said he was looking at his mail the last time you saw him?"

Harry nodded. "He told me he'd gotten that from his grandmother this morning and wasn't going to open it until later. He was just getting to the box when I left to meet Hermione. Ron left about the same time I did."

"It's possible," Lupin said. "If it was keyed to activate when he touched it rather than at a specific time." Lupin raised his wand and summoned the box towards himself. "Gods, if that is all it took to break through security, Minerva's going to have kittens."

"Her? I'm more concerned about what Neville's grandmother is going to do to Dumbledore," Harry said.

"You don't need to worry about that," Lupin said. "The Minister can take care of himself. First we need to find out if there was a Portkey active in this room. That, at least, can be traced at the Ministry. I don't know why it never occurred to anyone to guard against that."

"Especially after what I told the Minister about the end of my fourth year," Harry said. "I still wonder why it was so easy for people to get to me every year."

"If I remember your story accurately, you weren't exactly making yourself difficult to get to all the time," Lupin said. "Even tonight, you ran off without telling anyone where you were."

"Hermione and I were just—"

"I'm sure I know exactly what you were doing," Lupin said. He lifted his wand to levitate Harry's trunk again. "I'm not even going to get into what your mother is going to say about that, and don't think Professor McGonagall won't tell her. She was informed you were missing and is probably with Sirius now, worried out of her mind."

"Fantastic," Harry said as he followed the professor down the hall. "If I had a choice about explaining things to my mother, I think I'd rather be where Neville is now."  


* * *

  
"Fuck you!" Leaning back, Neville spat through the bars into Bellatrix's face before bracing himself. As he had expected, she sent him to the floor screaming in pain again, her features composed as the boy in the cage writhed in agony. After a few minutes of this, she released him from the spell and crossed her arms, drumming the fingers of one hand against her sleeve.

"What is so special about you, Mr. Longbottom?" Bellatrix walked back and forth in front of the cage, the click of her heels on the wood floor barely audible over the panting of her victim. "From what I can see, you're nothing more than a pathetic excuse for a wizard, a mere shadow of your very talented parents." Bella smiled. "And even they fell to the inevitable, didn't they?"

Neville did not respond to the taunting. He merely lay in the bottom of the cage, still twitching in place from the strength of the spell.

The witch stopped walking and tapped her foot slowly, just before Neville's face. "No, you're not very special at all. Just a little boy who got lucky because your sainted parents sacrificed themselves. But they're not here to do that now, are they?" She lifted her wand and the boy screamed again, turning over onto his back as the pain wracked his body. Bellatrix released him from the curse.

"The Dark Lord could not kill you before." A corner of her mouth lifted. "I think it's fair to say, whatever power you may have held that could vanquish him in the past is a distant memory." Neville screamed again. "When the time comes, it will be his pleasure to send you off to be with your parents. But it will be my pleasure," she said, "to find out just how weak you are before that time." Smiling fully now, Bellatrix trained her wand on Neville and sent waves of pain throughout his body until he passed out.  


* * *

  
Shortly after he stepped out of the Floo at Sirius's house, Harry was enveloped in a hug by his mother; the force of it knocked him back a step. "Mum, I'm fine," he mumbled into her shoulder. Harry frowned, but didn't push back. After being separated from her for several weeks, and with all that lay ahead, having his mother hold on to him was more comforting than anything else he could've had at the moment.

"I can see that you're fine," Lily said, still holding him tight. "I was so worried about you." She pulled back to look into his eyes. "What possessed you to run off like that?" she asked, her voice shaking. She frowned as she ran a hand over his hair.

Harry said nothing. He turned when Hermione followed him into the room, both of their trunks levitating in front of her.

"I'm just glad you're both safe," Lily said. She squeezed her son once more before stepping back. She squeezed his shoulders. "You're so thin. Have you been eating? Never mind, I'll fix you something." She turned to where Hermione still stood before the fireplace, watching them warily. "Is there a reason you had to leave the school as well? I didn't think you'd be coming."

"I—" She glanced at Harry before her gaze returned to his mother. "The Minister said it would be best. He—he thinks I can help Harry prepare." At Lily's narrowed gaze, Hermione's eyes shot to the floor.

"I don't know why he didn't want all of us to leave school," Harry said. "We've all been training a lot, Mum. We work really well together."

"And you think you're ready?" Lily asked.

Harry didn't know how to answer that. He wanted to be truthful, but he wasn't ready to see his mother dissolve into tears the same way Hermione had when they'd talked earlier. The look of strain already present on her face was enough. "I'm as ready as I'm going to be," he responded. "So is Neville, wherever he is. I just hope he hasn't been hurt."

"I'm trying not to think about it," Lily said. "We've all been in a panic about the three of you. You've just missed Neville's grandmother. She had quite a few words for our Minister."

"Is Dumbledore here?" Harry asked. He looked around the sparsely furnished sitting room. It looked exactly as Harry had imagined from Tonks's description—a sofa and two chairs, a table and a wireless—just enough furnishings for a single man, and neater than he normally kept it, probably since Lily was there. There were a few photos in frames on the table, but none of the portraits Harry remembered from Grimmauld Place.

"Yes," Lily responded. "He and Sirius are putting protections around the house. That brings me to a few rules. While you're here, you won't be allowed to go outside. You cannot do any spells. You cannot send messages to anyone. I can't imagine why you'd have to, but if you must send a message, it has to go through Sirius. Your sister doesn't know what's happening, so if you write to her, please let her think you're still at school."

"Is that wise?" Harry asked. "If something happens, won't she—"

"Harry, nothing is going to happen to you." Hermione stepped out away from the fireplace and crossed the room, ignoring Lily's frown when she put an arm around him. "We all believe you can do this."

Harry frowned and glanced at his mother briefly. "Weren't we talking earlier about realistic expectations?" he asked.

"I know what we talked about," Hermione said after a pause. "I refuse to act like we're sending you on a death mission," she added. "You need every bit of confidence and good will you can have. I'm sure your mother feels the same way." She turned to Lily for confirmation. The other witch crossed her arms and nodded. "As soon as they find out what happened to Neville, Dumbledore will come up with a plan."

"That's just it, isn't it?" Harry asked. "Lavender didn't know how close she might have been. Draco's been getting threats left and right. It's possible he helped his aunt if he thought it would save his mother's life. He told us he wasn't going to help her, but he could have changed his mind." He crossed his arms. "I'd consider handing him over to a Death Eater if I thought it would save someone in my family."

"Harry, don't talk that way."

"Mum, what am I supposed to say?" Harry asked. He began rubbing at the side of his head as his headache returned. "I'm sorry, but it's how I feel. Neville is gone and there are only so many ways he could have left the school. If the Portkey idea isn't right, then Draco could have done something."

"Portkey?" Hermione asked.

"I think that's what was in the box Neville got in the mail this morning," Harry said. "He was opening it when Ron and I left after dinner. The box was left on the floor. He couldn't have just walked out, Lavender was waiting for him in the common room." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out Neville's wand. "And his wand was just there on the bed." He slipped it back into his pocket.

"Yes, but if Malfoy was going to do something to him, why do it through the mail?" Lily asked. "Couldn't he have just handed it to him?"

"Neville would never have accepted some mysterious package from him," Hermione responded. "They've barely been on speaking terms the past few weeks. Plus, Malfoy wouldn't have wanted to get caught. It does make sense, Harry. If he did it, he would have left the school afterwards to avoid being captured."

"Right, but to where?" Harry asked. "He claimed he had no idea where his aunt is hiding, but I'm sure that's where he is. Even if he had no intention of doing anything to us—" He paused and closed his eyes as a sharp pain passed behind his eyes. "If she pushed him far enough he—he'd have to." Harry's voice faded on the last words. His eyes rolled back into his head just before he stumbled.

"Harry, what—?" Hermione's words died in her throat as he swayed more and then passed out at her feet.  


* * *

  
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Bellatrix asked. "To know you had a choice and you chose wrong," she said slowly. She began pacing back and forth in front of the bed, smiling slightly when she noticed Voldemort had woken and was observing her. She lifted her wand and pointed it at her nephew. Draco screamed out and pulled against the hooks binding him to the far wall. The hooks pulled at his skin and warm rivulets of blood began coursing down his back.

"I would feel sorry for you, if you weren't so sad." She released him from the curse and stopped pacing, crossing her arms. "You actually told Potter and Longbottom you weren't going to help me out of some misguided, self-righteous way of getting back at me." Bella's eyes narrowed as she read her nephew's current thoughts. "Don't think I haven't considered killing you, but you don't deserve that relief just yet. For now, I think you and I have some things to get straight. I know you have information for me. I intend to get it out of you. By any means necessary."

She began pacing again. Draco's head lifted and he watched her move back and forth in front of him, tapping her wand against her palm. When he felt her probing at his mind, he pushed back with all his strength. Bellatrix flinched at the force of it, then began smiling. It was always more fun when they put up a fight.  


* * *

  
Hermione fell to her knees next to Harry screaming his name frantically. She looked up at Lily, seeing her own panic mirrored in the other witch's eyes.

"What happened?" Sirius came through the doorway from the hall, followed quickly by Dumbledore.

"I don't know," Hermione said. She moved to the side as Dumbledore and Sirius kneeled on either side of Harry, both pulling their wands out. "One minute he was fine and then he started rubbing at the side of his head. The next thing we knew, he just collapsed." At her pronouncement, Harry moaned softly and shook once before falling still.

Frowning, Sirius tucked his wand into the pocket of his trousers and stood.

"What is it?" Lily asked. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Why are you stopping?"

"He's fine," Dumbledore said. He ran a hand over Harry's face and held it over his fluttering eyelids. "He's just passed out."

"But why?" Lily asked. "You said that thing in his head wouldn't hurt him."

"It is not that," Dumbledore assured her. He released Harry and stood from the floor, putting his wand in his pocket. "Do you remember when I told you he and Neville are connected through their respective scars? Harry is seeing a little of what Neville has been going through." He paused as the others looked at him, waiting for answers. "It is as we have feared. Bellatrix has Neville and has spent the last while torturing him. I don't believe Harry feels any of Neville's pain, but he is currently having a vision of what Neville has been through as if he is experiencing it himself."

"Can you see it using Legilimency?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "She is not going to cause him any great physical damage—for now. Voldemort isn't strong enough to attack him yet. I believe that's the best we can hope for. Miss Granger, did you bring everything you'll need?"

"I—" Hermione flushed and looked at the floor before nodding.

"Good," Dumbledore said. "I have no doubt your foresight will prove invaluable very soon." Lily stared at Hermione with one eyebrow raised. The teenager continued to avoid eye contact with everyone in the room, instead keeping her gaze on Harry's unconscious form.

"I must leave," Dumbledore said to the group. "If anything changes with Harry's condition, please send me a message immediately. When he wakes, have him extract the memory and send it to me directly. The Aurors will need every clue we can give them to find out where Neville is being kept."  


* * *

  
Bellatrix smiled as her nephew sagged against the wall, finally tired of fighting her. He'd given it one last attempt, using Occlumency as best he could as she'd tortured him, but had finally given up. As she searched through his memories, one brief instance caught her attention and she paused to examine it. She closed her eyes and listened through her nephew's ears as Potter and Granger had a discussion about Horcruxes and the deaths that could result from the Dark Lord's knowledge. She smiled. The pieces did not all fit, but it seemed this was exactly what she needed. The final clue that, once deciphered, would spell the end of Longbottom at her master's hands.


	16. Dangerous Connections

There was blood streaked down the walls. It was the first thing that caught Neville's attention, but he was too weak to recoil from the sight of it. Splatters and rivulets had dried beneath hooks placed about six feet above the floor—with no sign of the person who had left them. Nothing but the faint stench of rotted flesh and dried blood. Bellatrix shoved Neville forward until he was standing beneath the hooks. Wincing, he leaned against the stained wall and willed his knees to lend him support until he could be lucky enough to pass out again.

"This is the boy Dumbledore expects to destroy me?"

Neville looked across the room to the bed where Voldemort lay; the faint red glow of his eyes illuminated his face from the shadows. As Neville watched, he sat up in the bed and reached for a vial of potion on the table next to him.

"My lord, as I have told you, he is far too weak to be any sort of threat to you. Is it not possible Dumbledore deliberately let you hear a false prophecy?" Bellatrix asked.

Voldemort stood from the bed and began crossing the room. "Severus informed me of this years ago. I viewed his memory as confirmation. While it is true that my first attempt to kill this child had a devastating affect on my physical person, it came nowhere close to killing me. I have yet to see how such a ridiculous claim could be true." He frowned as he stopped in front of Neville. His eyes narrowed. "I don't believe this weakling could so much as scratch me, let alone kill me on his own." He bared his teeth in a small smile. "Dumbledore has finally gone senile."

_He knows a hell of a lot more than you_, Neville thought.

"Does he?"

Neville flinched when he realized Voldemort had read his mind without even picking up his wand. Gathering his strength, he attempted to focus long enough to block the older wizard probing his thoughts.

"I wouldn't bother, Mr. Longbottom," Voldemort said. He raised one long-fingered hand and trained his wand on the teenager. "If you fight me, I will just have Bellatrix subdue you until I can get a clearer picture of what you know." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Now that I think of it, she has not had the chance this morning to attempt persuading you to talk of your own volition. Shall we try that first?"

"No." Neville's voice was barely above a whisper, but the sound of it inspired a small laugh from Bellatrix. She clutched at his hair and jerked his head back.

"I think I'll take my pleasures when you're done with him," she said. "There may not be much left when I'm through."

"Very well." Voldemort bared his teeth again. He glanced up at the hooks spotted with dried blood. "Hang the boy and I'll begin."  


* * *

  
It was the touch of a hand that woke him. These days, Harry didn't feel there was much to make him smile, but a comforting touch in the midst of all the pain was the one thing that could briefly take his mind off what had happened. What continued to happen. He opened his eyes and blinked at the brightness of the sunlight streaming through the window near the bed. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"What do you remember, Harry?" Hermione sat next to him and continued to stroke his hair back from his forehead. Harry looked to the other side of the bed where his mother sat. Lily picked up his hand and held it between both of hers.

"How long was I out?"

"Two hours this time," Lily responded. Harry tensed at her frown. "You said something about being cut, but I couldn't read your thoughts."

"You don't want to," Harry said. He pushed himself into a sitting position. It had been nearly a week since Neville had been taken and Harry's visions had gotten more frequent and more intense with each passing day. Rather than worry everyone with exactly what Neville had been going through, the only people he told the full truth to were Hermione and Dumbledore—the latter of whom was becoming more preoccupied every time there was news.

The search for Neville had turned up no results. With Draco missing as well—and nowhere within Neville's vision—the only hope they had was that somehow a Death Eater would slip up and reveal their location. Or that Harry's connection to Neville would lend itself to a break that even the Aurors couldn't track. It was becoming harder for Harry to ignore the sadness in Lily's eyes every time she looked at him. He could tell what she was doing easily—counting the days until she'd have to say goodbye to him for the last time.

"Would you like to have lunch now?" Hermione asked. She motioned to a plate on the table next to the bed. "It'll only take a second to heat up."

Harry closed his eyes and saw a vision of Neville's hands, covered with his own blood and vomit. He opened his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat something," Lily and Hermione said simultaneously. "Neither of us is going to leave you alone until you do," Lily added. "Humor us."

"Fine." He reached for the plate of food Hermione had just reheated and began picking at the chips on it. "Have you heard anything from Dumbledore?"

"The Department of Magical Transportation says some sort of complicated concealment spell was used to hide the destination for the Portkey in your dorm," Hermione said. "They're still working on determining the location. Also, they think—" She paused and glanced over at Lily. As Harry watched, his mother nodded.

"What?" He dropped the food back to the plate. "What else?"

"They found a book under Draco's bed. They thought it was nothing and didn't bother investigating it at first, but Tonks finally read some of it last night. It seems a lot like the enchanted diary Lucius Malfoy had given Ginny Weasley."

"That's how they were communicating," Harry supplied.

"Right. It's also possible that's how he was taken from the school," Hermione said.

"You mean he was sucked into it like I had been sucked into one of Riddle's memories?" Harry put the plate back on the bedside table and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He took several deep breaths until the slight dizziness cleared. "That would be the best way to make his escape."

"Tonks doesn't think that's what happened," Hermione said. "Draco had been writing in it that night, telling his aunt that he wanted information on his mother before he'd agree to help her with anything. Then he just left off in the middle of a sentence. Tonks thinks she was monitoring when he wrote in it and used the book to get him out of school when he wouldn't be prepared to fight. He probably had no idea she could do that."

"So he hadn't agreed to help her?" Harry asked.

"That seems to be the case, " Lily said. "He was wearing down towards the end, but he had not betrayed you and Neville." She paused, giving her son time to digest the information. "Because of you, we know that Neville is still alive, but Tonks has told us we should not expect the same for Malfoy."

"What does Dumbledore say about that?" Harry asked. He stood from the bed and stretched. He flinched from a pain just beneath his shoulders. It was gone soon after it had begun.

"He said we shouldn't worry about it," Hermione whispered. "He wanted us to tell you to just concentrate on what you and Neville have to do. He was so cold." Hermione looked down at her hands. "He said the only thing you should worry about at this point is being ready for the fight of your life. Nothing and no one else."

"You can't be surprised that's how he feels about it, Hermione."

"It surprised me," Lily said. She stood from her chair and walked around the bed. "I expected Dumbledore to give a damn that his plan has possibly gotten one child killed already and he barely reacted when he heard of it. I hope he doesn't have the same attitude towards the two of you."

"Mum, you know he fully expects us both to die," Harry said.

"Don't say that," Hermione admonished him. "The odds may not be overwhelming, but—"

"Hermione, I can't do this right now," Harry said, cutting her off. "I know you want me to think positive and act like I'm going to come out of this whole, but I just—I don't have the energy right now." Without another word, he crossed the room and shut himself up in the bathroom. After he heard both of them leave the room, Harry leaned against the sink and succumbed to his tears.  


* * *

  
"Now, this is truly delicious."

Neville sagged against the wall and tried to focus his remaining energy on mentally blocking the pain of the hooks ripping into his skin and muscles.

"Another boy, a bit of me inside each of you," Voldemort tapped Neville's leg with the tip of his wand, "and a connection you cannot break while remaining in your mortal body." Voldemort laughed. The soft, hissing undertone of it sent a chill through Neville's body. "Dumbledore sent you on a suicide mission and you accepted it? Noble?" He chuckled again. "No, merely stupid. One would think even a child your age would be intelligent enough to refuse."

Voldemort turned to Bellatrix. She was gazing at Neville with her arms crossed, a small smile curving her lips. "Or did he think I would not have the capacity to kill you while you harbor a piece of my soul? More fool him. And you, you pathetic little pawn."

"Will you kill him now?" Bellatrix asked.

"No, I think it would be better to lure Potter here first. That may be one thing Dumbledore had right, that the boys must die together." Voldemort folded his hands together and began pacing.

_You're too weak to do anything yourself_, Neville thought. He flinched minutely as Voldemort turned to him, scowling. _You'll never be able to kill both of us._

"So you'd like to believe after hearing your friend's heroic tales," Voldemort said. He raised his wand and aimed it at Neville's chest. "I assure you, I am not too weak to do what needs to be done." His smile returned as the boy began to whimper. "Shall I give you a proper demonstration?"  


* * *

  
"I'm tired."

Sirius looked up from the newspaper in his lap and patted the seat next to him. "I'm not surprised. You've been spending your days at home keeping Raven busy and your nights here worrying about Harry's nightmares. It was bound to catch up with you."

Lily stepped away from the Floo and sank onto the seat next to Sirius. She picked up the front section of the paper and scanned it absently. Hands shaking, she quickly put the paper down and turned to him. "I think I'm afraid to close my eyes for too long. I keep imagining that if I do, I'll wake up and he'll be gone."

"You know, Dumbledore really does believe Harry and Neville can live through this."

"Believing it doesn't make it true," Lily said. "He can delude himself all he likes, but I'm the one that has to live with the reality if my son doesn't make it."

Sirius put the newspaper on the table and grasped Lily's hands. "We're all in this together. Augusta and the rest of the Longbottoms, you, me, Remus, Hermione—and if there's one person who will have the boys win through sheer willpower alone, it's your son's girlfriend. She's got enough confidence to see anything she wants done."

"No truer words," Lily said shortly. "Speaking of Hermione, I'm surprised she isn't down here spreading her usual sunshine. Did she finally stop fussing over you and Harry long enough to take to her own bed?"

Sirius shrugged. "She's probably keeping your nightly vigil. I doubt she's seen the inside of her bedroom more than a handful of times."

"What do you mean, she's rarely in her bedroom? What's wrong with you? You're supposed to be watching them." Lily stood abruptly, ran across the sitting room and was up the stairs before Sirius could stop her. She opened her son's bedroom door and sighed in relief. Harry and Hermione were laying together on top of the duvet with their arms around each other, fully dressed and fast asleep.

"I don't know what you're so worried about," Sirius said. He reached past her and pulled the door closed.

"You know exactly what I'm worried about," Lily responded. She brushed past him and headed towards the stairs.

"It wouldn't be the end of the world, would it?"

Lily turned to him, her mouth pulled tight.

"Clearly it would," Sirius said in answer to his own question. He sighed as she turned away and continued down the stairs. "Lily, just try to remember what it was like when you were their age and add in all of the craziness in their lives right now. Isn't it only natural that they would turn to each other for comfort?"

"That is not what she's turning to him for," Lily said as she reentered the sitting room. She sat and crossed her arms over her chest, a frown settled on her face.

"I don't think Hermione has ulterior motives where Harry is concerned."

"And you know this after spending how much time with her?"

"You know her better than I do and you weren't suspicious of her until after Snape—" Sirius cut off as Lily's eyebrows drew together. "Until a few weeks ago, you trusted the two of them together."

"Things were different then. _He_ was different." Lily sighed. "It's still hard to believe all that's happened."

"Yes, he's different. But he has been for a while now," Sirius said quietly. "You have to learn to live with the situation. Harry is growing up. You remember what we were like at that age, sneaking around the passages, making excuses to get out of class."

"Don't remind me," Lily said.

"My point is, you can't be upset at them for doing even half the stuff you and James did at about their age. Honestly, if Harry knew what the two of you did that could've gotten you expelled—"

"Shut up!" Lily glared across the room at Sirius. Before she could stop herself, her frown softened into a small smile. "I know it makes me sound like a hypocrite, but I would like him to stay a boy for a while longer. While he still can."

"He hasn't been a boy for quite some time, Lily. You know his story. You know what it took to get him here. You can't save his innocence now. The most you can do is love him while you have him."

"You know, for someone who doesn't have any children, you're certainly full of parental wisdom."

"It's easy," Sirius replied. "I just think of my last two years living with my parents and advise the opposite." He crossed the room and sat next to her, pulling Lily into his arms easily. She leaned her head onto Sirius's shoulder and he leaned back on the couch. "I know it's difficult, but you shouldn't be too hard on them."

"She's manipulating him and there's nothing I can do about it," Lily said.

"You don't know she's done that," Sirius whispered. "He seems to really care for her, however long they've been together. After everything he's been through, I think Harry is smart enough to know when someone is using him." He squeezed Lily tighter. "I also think your fear is coming from another place and it isn't fair for you to put it onto those kids."

"That's just my point," Lily said. She lifted her head. "He's in over his head and I can't do anything to stop what's coming. I would give anything—" She stopped speaking and sniffed hard.

"I know," Sirius said. "We both would. We can't save him from Voldemort and you can't stop them from comforting each other the best way they can, short of locking them both up."

"Don't think I haven't considered it." She smiled to soften the comment. "Still, I'm not imagining how Hermione's acting towards him. It's downright possessive. She's always in his ear, there whenever he wakes up, supporting him in a way that I can't and I'm his _mother_. How do I know she's acting in his best interest?"

"Lily, she has as much to lose as you do if something happens to him. You may not see it this way, but the two of you have far more in common than Hermione and Snape."

"I never said she's just like him."

"You don't have to," Sirius said. "It's obvious that's how you feel. And haven't you said it's hurting Harry that you aren't as close to her as you were a few months ago?" Lily sighed and nodded. "Then I'll make you a deal. I will talk to Harry about their relationship if you try to give them a chance."

"I don't think that will help," Lily said.

Sirius brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It will if you want it to. You're being stubborn. You have no reason to suddenly dislike her other than your own demons. It isn't fair to any of you. Besides, do you want to spend what could be your last days with him harboring all of this unnecessary anger towards his girlfriend?"

Lily sighed. "You know, I hate it when you make sense. It makes it so much more difficult to argue with you."

Sirius laughed. "I like to think it's my never failing charm that makes it difficult to be disagreeable."

Lily placed a hand on his cheek and leaned forward. "There might be something to that as well." Moving closer, she planted her lips over his. He stiffened under her touch, but Lily didn't move away until after several long moments had passed.

"Lily…"

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me again. Just hold me."

Obediently, Sirius pulled the emotionally fragile woman into his arms and held her tight. He wondered, not for the first time, if she would be able to hold herself together if the worst happened and she had to lose her son again.  


* * *

  
Harry sat up in bed abruptly and clutched at his chest, a scream dying on his lips. Hermione sat up and put her arms around him seconds later.

"Is Neville all right?"

"He knows," Harry whispered. A chill went through him as he recalled the way Neville had cried out when it happened and the strange feeling that had passed through his own body when Voldemort had tortured Neville. For the first time since the other boy had been kidnapped, Harry had felt substantial pain from his scar. He didn't know what it meant, but he could only guess it meant the strengthening of his connection to Neville—and Voldemort.

Hermione shook Harry by the shoulder. "Neville knows that you can sense what's happening to him?"

"No." Harry turned to Hermione. "Voldemort. He knows. Everything. And he thinks he's figured out a way to kill us both."

"No. He can't have figured that out," Hermione said. She released Harry and pulled her suddenly shaking hands into her lap. "Dumbledore doesn't think it's even possible."

"The Minister knows as much about it as we do," Harry said. There was a lot going on that he was sure Dumbledore didn't understand at all. Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. He couldn't make sense of the sudden pain, or the blinding flash of blue light that had ended his latest vision. Harry slid to the edge of the bed. "And some of what Dumbledore thinks he knows is just guesswork. I've got to tell someone what's happened. Is anyone awake?"

"Your Mum left a few hours ago and I think Sirius is still downstairs." Hermione stood as Harry opened the bedroom door. "We should send an owl to Dumbledore immediately. It's late, but I think he might still be at his office."

"If the building is empty, I should be able to Floo over myself," Harry said. He waited at the bottom of the stairs until Hermione caught up with him.

"He's already told you, sending your memories will be sufficient."

Harry frowned. "He can't blame me for wanting to get out of this house for at least a few minutes, even if it's just to his office."

"That doesn't mean either he or Sirius will allow you to leave. You're here for your safety," Hermione reminded him.

Rather that remind her how safe it was in the Minister's office, Harry pushed open the door to the sitting room. The sight before him made him stop in his tracks. Hermione promptly bumped into him.

Before she could ask, Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise as she looked past Harry and realized what had caused him to freeze in the doorway.

Harry clenched one hand into a fist and Hermione pulled him backwards, not letting go until they had reached the stairs and the door had swung shut silently behind them.

He began pacing back and forth at the foot of the stairs. "I'm going to kill him," he said in a low voice.

"Harry, no." Hermione grabbed him by the shirt as he attempted to move past her. "It was probably nothing."

"You're not blind, Hermione. He was kissing her."

"It was just a kiss," she said. "That's all we saw. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for it."

"What's perfectly reasonable about Sirius kissing my mother? She used to be married to his best friend. She's vulnerable right now and he's taking full advantage of that."

"We don't know that," Hermione said. "Come upstairs with me."

Harry walked past her. "No, I'm going to—"

Hermione pulled out her wand and stunned Harry just before he reached the door again. Sighing, she levitated him up the stairs as she walked to his bedroom. He would have to forgive her later. There was enough tension all around without Harry picking a fight with his mother and godfather. He could force them to explain when he was calmer. She lowered him to the bed. Lily and Sirius would be lucky if time helped Harry understand.


	17. Broken

"You're sure of this?" Dumbledore asked. "He's learned everything about you?"

Harry nodded. "Voldemort…" He paused and glanced at Augusta Longbottom. Then his eyes drifted around the room to Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sirius and his mother. None of them had ever heard him describe what was going on with Neville in detail and Harry didn't want to worry them—especially Neville's grandmother—any more than he had to.

"Neville's still being tortured, isn't he?" Augusta asked. She wiped a hand beneath her eyes. "But he's standing up to it."

Harry nodded. "After a while he wasn't able to block his thoughts anymore, but physically they haven't done anything he couldn't take." Harry heard Hermione suck in a quick breath behind him and turned, raising an eyebrow at her. The last thing she needed to do was hint that he was lying about what was happening to Neville, however much she felt he needed to tell everyone the truth. In spite of her assertions that they all had to share the burden, Harry knew no one really needed to know the extent of the torture Neville was suffering. His mother especially did not need to hear about the situation he was still willing to go into. It would be hard enough for her to let go without fear of what might happen to him before he died.

"Did anyone mention where they might be?" Dumbledore asked, drawing Harry's attention back to him.

Harry shook his head. "Voldemort was just concerned with getting information from Neville. There wasn't much talking beyond that." Just screaming from Neville after the interrogation was done. Bellatrix had used a spell Harry had never heard of—one that made Neville feel as if his skin were on fire. He'd spent nearly an hour clawing at his skin as he tried to rip it off and screaming his throat raw before he finally passed out. Harry had suffered every moment with him, finally waking in tears and unable to explain to his mother that he almost hoped Neville would die so he wouldn't have to suffer further.

"We've searched every house we could find with a connection to Death Eaters in the past week," Kingsley said, "with no sign of any of them. When they all disappear like this, it's likely they're holed up in the same place, preparing for something."

Tonks cleared her throat. "I know you don't want to draw attention to this, but I think we may have to tell the _Prophet_ that Voldemort's back. Someone may have seen something, but we'll never find out if the public at large is in the dark."

"I am inclined to agree with you," Dumbledore said. "If Harry cannot give us any new information within the next few days, we will have no choice—even if it puts the entire magical community into a further state of panic. More so than the murders have already done."

"Do you really think going to the _Daily Prophet_ will get you closer to finding out where Neville is?" Augusta asked.

"At this point, I am willing to consider any course of action that allows us to find him and get him out of this situation," Dumbledore said. He stood and nodded at the table at large. "If there is nothing else, I'd like to speak with Harry in private before I leave."

Frowning at the quick dismissal, Augusta Longbottom stood from the dining room table and came around to where Harry sat. "If you can find a way to get a message to my grandson," she whispered, "tell him we're all pulling for him. Send him any strength you can." Before Harry could respond, she walked briskly through the doorway and into Sirius's sitting room, where the two Aurors were preparing to leave.

Harry turned to Dumbledore. "I don't have anything else to tell you, if that's what you're wondering."

"You may know more than you realize." The Minister offered him a small, sad smile. "Would you mind if I put you to sleep briefly? Miss Granger may remain here if you wish."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Hermione. She was frowning at the Minister, but softened her expression as she looked down at Harry. "It's up to you."

Harry nodded. He frowned as he watched Lily and Sirius cross the room behind Dumbledore, hand-in-hand as they left.

"Do whatever you think can help," Harry said, bringing his gaze back to the Minister. "I don't think Neville can take much more of this."  


* * *

  
"He's suffering," Lily stated. She crossed her arms and looked up at Sirius. "He'll hardly talk to me about anything and it's driving me crazy. You have to do something."

"Lily, what do you expect me to do? Harry is going through something very intense right now and—"

"I know that!" She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. After a moment's thought, she waved her wand and the door to the sitting room closed behind Sirius. "He isn't talking to anyone but Hermione and it's scaring me. What if—what if he's thinking about ending it all just to get away from the nightmares? Or what if he knows something that's happening to Neville that will eventually get them both killed? The longer that boy is missing the harder it is to trust that the Minister is not going to see them both dead and my son—"

"Your son accepted that possibility weeks ago," Sirius whispered. Lily began shaking and Sirius pulled her into his arms. "I know this is difficult, but you have to let him deal with it his own way."

"Deal with it?" She pulled back to look into Sirius's eyes. "He's barely sleeping, eating only when we force him and hardly says two words that aren't about torture or death. He is not dealing with anything. It's been forced upon him. He may just find it easier not to deal at all."

"Harry is not suicidal."

"How do you know?" Lily asked in a small voice. "I can hardly get two feet from him before I feel like he's falling apart right in front of me. I want to talk to him, but not if it'll make him have a nervous breakdown. Hermione is not helping. She never leaves his side."

"You wouldn't either, if you had a choice about it."

"I just…please talk to him." Lily wiped at her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. "I just want to be sure that he hasn't given up. For some reason, Albus still believes there is hope they will win and I want Harry to hold onto that."

"I want you to do the same," Sirius replied. "If anything can give him strength, it's knowing that you haven't given up either."

"Of course I haven't." Lily leaned up and kissed Sirius on the cheek. "I'm going to check on Raven. She has to be wondering why I left her with a sitter so early this morning and I need to give my excuses."

"I'll talk to him," Sirius said. "You get some rest while you're there."

Lily smiled as she reached into the small pot of Floo powder on the mantel. "There'll be time for rest after all this is over and done with." With that, she stepped into the fireplace and disappeared behind a cloud of bright green smoke.

"Was that my mum leaving?"

Sirius turned to see Harry in the doorway, Hermione standing just behind him. "Yes, she went to check on your sister. Hopefully, she'll get some rest while she's at home."

"She has been running herself ragged, hasn't she?"

"It doesn't surprise me," Harry said to Hermione over his shoulder. "She's got a lot to deal with about now."

"We all do, especially you," Sirius said, stepping closer. Sirius placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Would you allow me a word in private?" He attempted a smile as the boy looked up at him. "It's important."

"No," Harry responded in a low voice.

Sirius blinked hard. "Excuse me?"

"Harry is very tired," Hermione said. She moved closer to Harry and slipped an arm around his. "He didn't get very much sleep last night." She began tugging at his arm. "Maybe we should go upstairs so you can get some rest."

Harry said nothing, but let Hermione lead him out of the room and up the stairs. They were in his bedroom with the door closed when he spoke. "You didn't have to do that."

Hermione frowned and locked the door. "Of course I did. You looked like you wanted to hit him right there."

"Can you blame me?" Harry asked. He sat down on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. "You saw the way they were acting this morning, right? The way he kept putting his hands on her—we never should've left them alone last night. Who knows what they got up to."

"Nothing," Hermione assured him. "I went downstairs not too long after we'd seen them and your mum had already left."

"That doesn't mean they've never…done more." Harry slammed a fist onto the bed. "I can't believe this is happening. That's probably why he wanted to talk to me, to tell me what's going on. To get my blessing, as if he needed it before."

"I think they're both just worried about you," Hermione said.

"Did what they were doing last night seem like they were thinking about me?"

"It didn't seem like much of anything, to be honest," Hermione responded. Harry frowned at her assessment. "Look, I know you're worried that he might take advantage of her—"

"He is," Harry interrupted. "You can't deny the truth of what we've seen."

"Don't you think your mother is much more aware of what she's doing now after all she went through with Professor Snape?"

"I think she's too worried about me to be aware of much of anything," Harry said. He fell back onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. "She's been taken in by him and it's my fault. Again."

"You can't blame yourself for your mother's choices, then or now," Hermione said. "Besides that, Sirius is a good person. I don't think he'll try to take advantage of her. Didn't you say how much he cared for your parents before? That he said he would've died to save them?"

"He could be different now."

"I thought you said everyone was basically the same as in your past, except for Neville." Hermione sat next to Harry and leaned over him until she was blocking his view of the ceiling. "You have enough to worry about without adding this to it. Trust that your mother can take care of herself."

"But if something happens to her because of me…"

"Nothing will happen to her," Hermione whispered. She lowered herself to the bed and curled up against his side. Harry turned to face her.

"Promise me, if anything happens to me, you'll help her. My mum and my sister."

"You never had to ask. I'll do anything I can to help them," Hermione promised, not bothering to assure Harry that he would be fine. He nodded and then moved to kiss her. Hermione offered a token protest, but didn't push Harry away as his hands slipped over her and their clothes fell to either side of the bed.  


* * *

  
Voldemort lay in bed with Bellatrix at his side, a rare genuine smile touching his lips. It was there, just beneath the surface. He'd felt it the night before as he'd tortured the boy. He felt it more now. The energy that thrummed beneath his fingertips. The power that surged behind his every moment, more discernable now than it had been since he'd been restored to a human body with even the most powerful of strengthening solutions to aid him.

The boys were the key. He would not die at their hands as had been predicted but be restored to full power at their deaths. More. He would have more power than he could have ever imagined. It was only a matter of bringing them together and finishing what fate had started. The beginnings of his full rise to power.  


* * *

  
He could live forever in moments like this. With Hermione moaning beneath him, blurring his name into a sea of sounds, Harry felt himself become lighter as he lost himself within her. The tension, the sorrow, the pain he felt all became a distant memory as he gave himself over to the pure joy he felt being with her. He covered her lips with his and they breathed in unison. Hermione moaned his name again and Harry cried out wordlessly in response, words lost to him.

There was a bang and then a scream from the doorway. A momentary panic froze Harry in place. He saw Hermione's eyes widen over his shoulder and closed his own. He heard her curse softly before he turned over and spotted his mother in the doorway, wand in hand, her mouth drawn in anger.

"How could you?" Lily asked, pointing her wand at the two of them. "I thought I could trust you." She put a hand over her mouth as she watched them draw further apart. Sirius came up behind her and frowned when he spotted the two teenagers in the bed. Without a word, he put an arm around Lily's shoulder and led her away from the doorway.

"She's going to kill us," Harry said after a few seconds.

"She's going to kill me," Hermione corrected him as she sat up. "You didn't see the look on her face at first. I can tell she blames me."

Harry slid across the bed and reached for his pants on the floor. "I don't see how she could blame you for anything. There's nothing to assign blame for. We wanted to be together. There's nothing wrong with it."

"Except that we promised her we wouldn't do anything," Hermione said. She slid to the other side of the bed and began reaching for her own clothes. "She's never going to trust me now."

"Hermione, you don't have anything to worry about. I'm going to talk to her," Harry said. "If she was worried about you seducing me—"  
"You think explaining to her that it was your idea the first time is going to make her feel better?" Hermione asked. She crossed her arms as Harry headed towards the bedroom door. "No amount of talking is going to help."

"Yes it can," Harry said. "She has to understand that I need both of you and we're old enough to know what we're doing."

"She'll never see it that way," Hermione whispered as Harry slipped through the doorway.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he approached the sitting room slowly, listening for signs that his mother had calmed from her initial reaction. Before he could knock on the door, it swung open from the inside. Harry stepped through the doorway and immediately reached a hand out to his mother.

"Mum, I can explain. We just—"

Lily put a hand up to stop his pending speech. "I can't. Not now." Without meeting her son's eyes, she brushed past him. Harry heard her stomping up the stairs. When he turned to follow, the door slammed in his face and sealed with a loud squelch and brief white glow.

Harry turned back. "Sirius, I need to—"

"Do you have any idea how much you've upset your mother?" Sirius asked. "Doesn't Lily have enough to deal with without walking in on the two of you?"

"That's rich," Harry responded. "You are not my father, in spite of whatever you've got going with my mother now."

Sirius frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"We saw you yesterday, kissing my mother over there," he said, gesturing to the sofa. "You have some nerve lecturing me about what I'm doing with Hermione. Are you any better than Snape was? You weren't waiting for him to die, but you didn't wait for her sheets to cool either."

Before he could continue, Sirius hit Harry with a Silencing Charm. Frowning as he approached the teenager, he slipped his wand into his pocket, grabbed Harry by the shirt with both hands, and pulled him close until their noses nearly touched. "Don't you ever compare me to that slime again. I would never dare hurt your mother and you damn well better understand that if you're going to stay in my home. You will not disrespect either of us like that again or I'll get your mother's permission to knock some sense into you the hard way."

He released Harry and took several steps back. Sirius ran a hand through his hair and reached for his wand. He took several moments to calm himself before his eyes met Harry's across the room. "Can we talk now? Like adults?" At Harry's nod, he removed the spells from Harry and the door behind him.

"You need to know that what happened with Lily last night was not unusual."

"You've kissed her before?" Harry asked. He was struggling to keep his voice even. Difficult considering that he wanted to do nothing more than hit his godfather.

"Well y—that's not my point," Sirius said. "The past few weeks have been difficult for everyone involved, you and Lily especially."

"What my mum needs is a friend, nothing more."

"Then you understand exactly what's going on between us," Sirius said. "Your mother needs to feel connected to someone right now. I'm willing to let her lean on me if she needs to. But that's it. She needs the support. Better me than someone who would take advantage of her."

"But the way she kissed you," Harry said.

"Nothing more than an empty gesture. I don't know how much you saw, but she apologized after because she knows it makes me uncomfortable," Sirius said. "She has done it before, but it never meant anything more than it did last night. Lily does not wish to have any type of intimate relationship with me, nor I her. She just wants to be close to someone who understands. Just as I'm sure part of the reason you and Hermione have grown so close is that she needs to feel close to you after losing someone for whom she cared very much."

"So, what you're saying is that your relationship with my mum is about as serious as my relationship with Hermione," Harry stated, his voice flat.

"No, that's not what I meant," Sirius said. "She and I have been closer than ever lately because she is going through a traumatic time. I'm sure Hermione—"

"She loves me," Harry said. "It's not just because she lost…the other one."

"Of course she does," Sirius remarked. "I don't doubt the two of you have very strong feelings towards one another. You need someone to support you as well. I just want you to understand that getting close to someone under such intense emotional circumstances doesn't always lend itself to the best type of decision making. I think what Lily regrets most is not seeing Snape for who he was when she was at her lowest, though she was in no shape to do so. That is her fear for you. Not that Hermione will hurt you on purpose," he said, fending off Harry's objection.

"But that neither of you really knows what you're doing at this point and how you'll feel about it months, or even years from now. Look, you've already slept together and that's something you can't take back. What you can do is be completely honest about your feelings. I know at your age, it's difficult to be aware of how what you're doing will affect someone else, but you should at least try to be respectful of each other."

Harry frowned and crossed his arms.

"I would tell you not to have sex again, but I know how much good that would do at this point," Sirius said. "I can only urge you to take every precaution. And I can tell you that whatever you're feeling about each other now may change drastically if you live through this ordeal—there is nothing wrong with that. If that should happen, if you and Hermione have difficulty being together after this is over, you're welcome to talk to me. I'm not trying to replace James and I never would. But if you need someone, I can be your friend. If anyone can understand what it's like to get in over one's head, it's me."

"Right. I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, averting his eyes. "I need to rescue Hermione. I bet Mum's tearing into her pretty badly about now." Without waiting for Sirius to comment, he turned and made his way upstairs.  


* * *

  
Hermione had just finished putting her clothes on when she felt the presence in the doorway. She turned and her heart skipped a beat at the expression on Lily's face. "I can explain," she began, taking a step forward. "We—"

"You don't have to explain a thing to me." Lily pulled the door closed, walked into the room and stopped at the foot of the bed. Her gaze went over the rumpled sheets before returning to the nervous teenager in front of her.

"I knew you were hiding something," Lily said. "You could barely look at me when you got here. I should have guessed it straight off. Let me try now. You waited, what, a week? More? Then you went back to convincing him you _love_ him and the two of you belong together. You toss that word around easier than confetti at a party. If I'd known the first time you told my son you loved him that you'd trade him over for his twin within weeks without so much as a token tear, I'd have let your parents pull you out of Hogwarts the minute they'd made up their minds to do so. If the other Harry were still here, I'm sure he'd find your definition of love leaves something to be desired."

"Of course I love them both!" Hermione screamed, frustration at not defending herself weeks before finally making her composure crack. "They are two different boys and we have two different relationships."

"Right," Lily responded. "I should've known you were the type to—"

"The type of person to what? To love him exactly for who is and not want him to be someone he's not? To feel for him because he grew up without love?" Hermione asked. "Or am I merely the type who will love him despite what other people will think of me, no matter how wrong they are, because loving him is more important than other people's approval?"

"Don't make yourself out to be some sort of angel here," Lily said. "I could have you arrested. You may have just turned sixteen, but Harry is still under the age of consent."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Arrested? You have got to be kidding. I didn't force him to do anything." She crossed her arms. "And, biologically speaking, if he hadn't time traveled he would've turned sixteen by now. You may not be happy about what we've done, but acting like I'm some sort of criminal proves nothing."

"Your words prove that you won't take responsibility for your actions, regardless of what I have to say about it," Lily said.

"I am responsible for my part in our relationship," Hermione said. "But Harry made the choice to be with me. I didn't force him. I didn't offer myself to him in some lurid way and there is nothing wrong with us being together."

"You would see it that way."

"Of course I do," Hermione shouted. "I love him. We both do. He loves both of us. Why can't you just accept that? Why make things harder than they have to be right now?"

Before Lily could respond, the door opened behind her and Harry stepped into the room.

"Don't stop on my account," Harry said. "I could hear you most of the way down the stairs."

"There is nothing else to say," Lily responded. She watched as Harry crossed the room and put an arm around Hermione. "You've obviously made up your minds to do whatever you want regardless of what I have to say about it."

"Mum, I wish you'd try to understand," Harry pleaded. "I know what you said to Hermione before Snape's funeral. You don't want us to be together, but it's not what you think. This is right for us. It's not like what was happening before—"

"This is not about what you think is right or wrong or what you think I want for you," Lily interrupted. She looked at Hermione. "I promised your parents I would take care of you. I told them I would look out for you when they were worried and they trusted me to keep you both safe."

"You don't have to keep us safe from each other," Hermione interrupted. "There's nothing wrong with—"

"You don't get it," Lily said. Her voice had lost most of it's hard edge. She lowered her eyes to the floor. "They were scared of losing you to something they couldn't stop you from doing. I see what's coming after my son every day and I can't stop it." Lily looked up again. "This kind of fear may not seem rational to you, but it's something we live with every day. I accepted responsibility for protecting the both of you." She looked at Hermione.

"I cared for you as my own daughter and I wanted for you what your parents wanted—that you wouldn't make the mistakes we made at your age. This is not about whether I still like you. This is not about me wanting Harry to choose one of us to have in his life. I am just so disappointed in both of you," she said. "I needed to be able to trust you because that's all we have as your parents. It's the only thing that allows us to let you go, even a little bit. The knowledge that you're safe from things you're not ready for."

Lily held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth to speak. "You can spare me the speech about how you know what you're doing. I've been there and I know the mistakes I wanted to take back, long after I'd made them. I wanted you to wait because I didn't want any of your firsts to ever be something you'd regret. Life is filled with enough of those that I thought you could spare yourself one."

"Mum, I feel bad that we hurt you, but I'm never going to regret what we've done," Harry said after a brief silence. He reached out to his mother and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you don't want to hear it, but we talked about it a lot before anything happened. It wasn't something that we rushed into because…" He glanced at Hermione. She was looking away from both of them, staring at a blank space on the wall. "It wasn't something that came about because of the situation we're in now. Whatever happens from here, I don't want you to hate Hermione because of what we've done."

"Is that what you think?" Lily asked. She studied her son's expression for several long moments before following his gaze to Hermione. "I don't hate you."

Hermione turned back to them and Harry saw that she was crying.

"I would never hate you, Hermione."

"But, you said—"

"I said some hurtful things to you and I'm sorry," Lily said. "I know it's no excuse, but I have some trust issues that I did not have before. You may not understand this, but after everything that's changed, I wanted one thing about Harry to stay the same. I've always been the most important person in his life. You threatened to change that."

"I'm not a threat to your relationship with him," Hermione said. She took a step closer. "You know that. He loves both of us and I would never ask him to choose between us."

"Nor would I," Lily said quickly. She smiled as Harry slipped his hand into hers. "It sounds silly, but I also wanted you to keep one part of you the little boy I raised because the rest of your life was becoming unrecognizable. It started over a year ago, but the past few months…" She squeezed his hand. "I know you're not the same, but you can't blame me for wanting to hold onto to even that small part, can you?"

"No, I can't," Harry said. He smiled as his mother ruffled his hair. "I'm sorry we hurt you."

"I'm sorry too," Hermione added quickly.

"But I want you to understand that we love each other and what we have is real. It's real to us. It may not be the kind of love you want me to have right now, but I think it's what I need," Harry said. "Hermione was right. I need all the support I can get, however I can get it."

"Fine," Lily said. She put her arm around her son and squeezed his shoulder. She swallowed hard. "I think we each understand how the other feels and I don't want to talk about it anymore. Just promise me one thing."

"Yes, we'll be careful," Harry said. "That's the only thing in my life that seems safe right now."

Lily continued to hold her son, but said nothing. When Hermione caught her gaze, she frowned briefly. This particular battle over her son might be over, but the war for his life had yet to be won.  


* * *

  
Early one morning several days later, nerves tightened her stomach as she woke in the dark. The house was silent, but she recognized the familiar feeling before her own dreams had faded. Hermione felt Harry stir again and frowned into the darkness. By the time he opened his eyes, she had the lamp next to the bed lit and was sitting up, waiting to soothe him from his most recent nightmare.

"I know where they are," Harry said. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the words that had just flashed through his thoughts. "Whatever Voldemort did to Neville, I can sense his thoughts and emotions now too, as if I'm right there in the room."

"Was it like before?" Hermione asked. "When you saw Nagini attack Mr. Weasley?"

"No," Harry replied. "This is…I can't explain it. But I know where they are," he said again. He pushed the sheets back on the bed and began reaching for his clothes. "I have to tell Dumbledore. I think we can rescue Neville today."


	18. Dillusionment

Harry looked around the room in an attempt to memorize the faces of everyone there. Sirius was watching Dumbledore speak, frown lines creasing his face. Lily sat next to him on the sofa, her hand in his, dark circles beneath her eyes aging her far beyond her thirty-six years. The Minister wore the same sober expression he'd worn when he'd begun telling Harry and Neville of their eventual fate. Harry looked up to where Hermione sat on the arm of his chair. The weeks of worrying had also taken their toll on her; her mouth was drawn into its usual frown and her eyes held a wealth of emotions Harry knew no plan, however carefully drawn, could ease.

He had to leave them all behind. In less than hour, he could be leaving this whole life behind. For weeks, Harry had been trying to convince himself it was worth it to save the Wizarding world from what Voldemort and the Death Eaters could do to their way of life. In this moment, in these last minutes before it would begin, Harry knew apprehension. Fear and regret and longing for what he might never have filled him as he listened to the Minister describe what would be happening when he stood to challenge Voldemort. But he was resolved. Stand up and be willing to die for everyone or watch everything he loved be destroyed, one life at a time. He and Neville had made the only choice that could be made. There would be no going back.

"The Aurors will be surrounding the house in exactly thirty minutes," Dumbledore said after glancing at his watch. He caught Harry's gaze. "Once we are in place, you will be able to sneak in with your Invisibility Cloak."

"What if someone notices?" Hermione asked. "There's bound to be some sort of monitoring around the house."

"We'll take the chance," Harry responded. "As far as I know, no spell can affect the Cloak. Even if they know I'm there, they won't be able to hurt me. I should be able to get in and get Neville out without a problem." Pain flared briefly behind his eyes and he closed them to consciously focus on blocking his thoughts. As far as Harry knew, Voldemort hadn't been able to read him as easily as he could Neville, but he didn't want to take the chance—not if they planned to take everyone in the house by surprise.

"Are the boys going to fight him today?" Lily asked.

"I would prefer to wait until Neville has recovered from the injuries he has suffered. If they have no choice but to fight today, they will." Dumbledore caught Harry's eyes as he said this and Harry wondered if the man was reading his mind without him picking up on it. Very few of his thoughts were of anything but what Neville had been going through and killing the people responsible for it. They all knew the chances of he and Neville returning that day, even if no one was willing to say it aloud.

"I expect you to get back here as soon as you can," Dumbledore added to Harry. The narrowing of the bright blue eyes betrayed the lie behind the words. Harry felt it was an unnecessary gesture for his mother's sake. As it was, she'd spent most of the last fifteen minutes barely holding herself together. He wasn't sure if it was unnecessarily cruel to have her waiting around the house for him to come back—just as he knew Hermione would be driving herself crazy, waiting for word of what had happened—but he appreciated that no one, not even the Minister, wanted to say the words Lily was dreading to hear.

"Sirius is going to arrive not long after you," Dumbledore said. "There is a field on the other side of woods near the house. He will wait there for the two of you, a considerable distance from the fighting."

"In case something goes wrong, how long should I wait before I go into the house to look for them?" Sirius asked. "I think ten minutes sounds fine, but I wasn't sure if that was enough time for Harry to find Neville."

"I think that should be more than enough," Harry said. "Especially if everyone else is outside."

"You're assuming he isn't being guarded," Lily said sharply.

"As far as I've seen, they've only been keeping him in a room by himself," Harry responded. "It won't take much to unlock the door. He's been too weak to run away, so they may not have done even that."

"It still sounds too risky for you to go in by yourself," Lily argued. She turned to Dumbledore. "I think Sirius should go in with him from the beginning. Or I should."

"Mum, you don't need to be there at all," Harry said quietly. "I don't want you getting hurt."

Lily frowned and sat back on the sofa. "I'm not going to argue with you about this, Harry. If my being there will be of any help to you—"

"It would be better for you to remain here," Dumbledore said, interrupting her. Lily's frowned deepened and Sirius squeezed her hand. "You may feel like you'll be of help, but I think you and Harry will only serve as distractions to each other." Dumbledore stood from his chair and checked his watch. "Harry, you have a little time to say goodbye and then I need to see you alone before we leave. I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

With one last glance at Lily's expression, Sirius stood from the sofa, motioning for Hermione to follow him into the hall. Once they were alone, Harry approached his mother. Without a word, he sank next to her on the sofa and pulled her close, steeling himself against his own emotions as Lily began to cry.

"Mum, I—"

"Shh," Lily said. She raised one hand to caress his cheek. Identical pairs of eyes met. "Harry, don't say anything. I can't listen to you say it or I'll never—" She closed her eyes briefly and swallowed. "Just know that no matter what has happened the past few weeks, I love you. I will never stop loving you. If it's the last thing you ever hear from me, I want you to know that you and your sister mean everything to me. I believe in you and I know you will do everything in your power to save all of us from that monster and come back to me."

Her words had come out in a whispered rush amidst her tears, but Harry understood the meaning behind every word as she clung to him. After a minute, she released him, stood abruptly from the sofa and stalked from the room. As Harry heard Lily going up the stairs, Hermione pushed open the door to the sitting room.

"Where's Sirius?" he asked.

"He followed her upstairs," Hermione said. Harry nodded, his eyes drifting up to follow the footsteps in the rooms above them. Hermione began crossing the room. Her steps faltered. Harry moved to meet her in the center of the room. She looked down at her feet and pulled her arms around herself. "I can't." Her voice had fallen to a whisper.

"You can't what?" he asked, moving closer.

"I can't say goodbye to you again," she answered, her eyes returning to his. Harry put his hands on Hermione's shoulders. "You just…" She raised her hand to the crystal at her neck and Harry felt a wave of sadness and fear wash over him. "After the way you came into my life, you have no idea what it did to me that we had to start over. It took a lot to get us where we are now. I don't think I can let you go. Not again."

"Hermione, you don't have to let me go," Harry said.

"Aren't you the one who's always telling me to be realistic?" Hermione whispered. "I have to because there's every chance you're going to be hurt. Or worse. As much as I've wanted to deny it, I know what could happen. It's never felt as real as it does now." His hands slipped from her shoulders to her waist.

"I know you can do this," she said after a minute. Hermione looked up at Harry. "Neville needs you. Don't let anything stop you from doing whatever you can to help him and get rid of V-Voldemort. Even if it means you won't come back." She slid her hands up to lock behind his neck. "Fight until you can't anymore."

He looked into her eyes and knew then what he'd been alternately wishing and praying against for days—she was letting him go, without the begging and hysterics he'd half-expected. Harry wasn't sure if it was a relief that she wouldn't make this any harder than it had to be, or torture that she was strong enough to say it with the conviction of truth behind her words.

"Promise me you won't forget me," Harry said.

"Never," Hermione whispered. She leaned up and brushed her lips over his. Harry tasted the saltiness of her tears as they kissed. Before he could tell himself he didn't have to go, he pushed back from her and walked out of the room quickly. Harry's hand went to Neville's wand in his pocket and he clutched it as he entered the kitchen. The sound of Hermione sobbing in the sitting room faded out of his hearing as he went to meet his fate.  


* * *

  
A short while later, Sirius entered the sitting room, a worn out shoe in one hand. Lily had long since been sedated. Watching Harry's godfather cross the room, his expression saying everything he would not put into words, Hermione wished she'd taken the potion Dumbledore had offered them both. In the end, she knew it would be pointless. No amount of potion could sufficiently numb her if the day ended the way she suspected it might. There would be only one course of action she would allow herself, then and now—steadfast resolution and complete focus on what needed to be done. For now, she had to do everything necessary to help Harry and Neville. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't.

"Is that the Portkey?" Hermione asked. Sirius nodded. Hermione stood from the sofa and slipped her hand into the pocket of her jeans, grasping her wand. Before he could anticipate her next move, Hermione had summoned the object from his hand and held it behind her back.

"What are you doing?" Sirius took a step forward. "Give that back to me."

"No." She twisted in place as Sirius tried to summon the shoe from her hands, but held it firmly, twining her fingers in the laces. She pointed her wand at Sirius. Hermione took a deep breath and spoke in a voice much steadier than she was feeling. "Take us with you or we go without you."

"Us?" Sirius frowned as he moved forward. "You can't be serious. I'm not taking anyone else with me, and that includes you and your friends. You're all underage and the Minister—"

"Fuck the Minister," Hermione said slowly, more sure of herself. Sirius tried to get the Portkey from her again. Hermione began walking towards the fireplace, her eyes never leaving Sirius. "He doesn't give a damn about either of them. He sent them to die. Harry and Neville need as much help as they can get. I'm not going to stand here and do nothing. Either you agree to take us or I'm going to activate this and we'll go on our own."

She stopped before the fireplace. Hermione slipped the shoe under her wand arm and reached into the pot on the mantle for a handful of Floo powder. Just as Sirius reached her, she stepped backwards into the fireplace. He jumped in next to her just as she shouted to be taken to the Gryffindor common room.  


* * *

  
Dumbledore and Harry's Portkey brought them behind a small copse of trees on the edge of the coastal property. Several Aurors turned at their arrival; one of them approached the Minister as he recognized him beneath the shadow of the trees.

"Has there been any movement from inside the house?" Dumbledore asked. Absently, he waved to Harry to begin walking towards the house. Harry moved forward slowly, conscious of a faint humming that seemed to grow louder as he approached the edge of the woods and stepped into the clearing.

"As far as we can tell, they haven't sensed our presence yet," Scrimgeour said. "The minute we reveal ourselves, it should not be long before we can draw all of them outside."

"Good. How many Hit Wizards do we have on the other side of the house?" Dumbledore asked. The Head Auror's answer was lost to Harry as he walked forward under cover of his father's Cloak.

Harry stepped further away from the cover of trees. The dark house loomed in stark relief against the oranges and pinks of the early morning sky. Streaks of light glinted against the windows; Harry's eyes drifted from floor to floor, searching for movement inside. His eyes settled on a window near the ground that lead to the basement. He decided that would be the best way to enter the house, before he had to make his way upstairs. After viewing Harry's dreams, Dumbledore had told him to start looking for Neville on the second floor, near the back of the house. They'd heard the faint sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs on the other side and reasoned that he would probably be kept as far away from the road as possible, though the seaside house was isolated from the nearby village.

Feeling the air around him change, Harry stopped walking and had to control his natural urge to scream as two men dressed in black came charging out of the house, heading in his general direction. Instinctively, he ducked and felt a rush of air as both men passed him, heading for the grouping of trees he'd just left. Before he could take stock of what was happening, over a dozen men streamed from the house towards the group of Aurors waiting outside for them. Harry scanned the fighters for a moment; Bellatrix Lestrange was not among them. Pulling the Cloak around himself, he approached the window and pried it open.  


* * *

  
It felt like another dream. A part of the nightmare from which Neville had been trying desperately to wake for days on end. He'd given up praying for rescue on the sixth day, and instead began wishing for death. Bellatrix, of course, would not have it. She'd begun force feeding him potions when he stopped eating and practicing rudimentary healing spells when he was too ill to drink on his own. Keep him alive long enough to break him, inside and out, Voldemort had ordered and she'd obliged with a level of enthusiasm Neville had never witnessed from his former Potions professor. Death was a prayer he thought would not be answered.

That is, until the door opened and closed and he heard soft footsteps cross the room. The steps stopped in front of him and a pair of dirty sneakers came into focus in front of his face. Then, jean-clad legs. Neville looked up. His heart stopped for several beats as he took in the grim face of Harry Potter.

"Are you all right?" he asked. He let his Invisibility Cloak fall to the floor. "Never mind. I know what they've been doing to you," he said, kneeling next to Neville's side. "Dumbledore gave me some potions for you that should help." He pulled three vials out of his pocket and held them towards the disbelieving boy on the floor. "As soon as I can get you outside, Sirius and I are taking you to the hospital."

Neville shook his head slowly, wondering if the vision in front of him would disappear as suddenly as it had come to him. He struggled to push himself up and winced as Harry grabbed him by both shoulders to help him into a sitting position.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I don't know how bad the rest of your injuries are, but from your face—we're going to get you to help as soon as possible."

"How do I know it's really you?" Neville asked. He blinked as a stinging began behind his eyes. "For all I know, she snatched you the day she took me from Hogwarts. I thought sure it was your blood on that wall."

Harry swore. "Has Bellatrix sent someone in here before? Someone who looked like me?"

Neville frowned. "No, but I wouldn't put it past her to give me hope like this. She'd find that kind of thing funny." He motioned to the vials in Harry's hand. "Of course, whatever you have in your hand, she'd never send you in with poison. She's counting the hours until she can watch Voldemort kill us," he said, his voice cracking on the last word.

"I'm sorry they were able to do this to you," Harry said. "If I can help it, you won't be hurt again anytime soon." He lifted one of the vials and motioned towards the window. Shouts could be heard from outside mingled with the sound of water crashing against rock. "Magical Law Enforcement is out there capturing or killing every Death Eater here. She wouldn't fake a battle outside just to get you to believe it, would she?"

Neville watched him for several long moments. "No." He reached for one of the vials in Harry's hand and grasped it weakly. "Even if I'm wrong and this is poison, maybe it'll be enough to keep me from being aware of what's going to happen next." After watching him fumble with it for a few seconds, Harry pulled the cork from the bottle and held it up for Neville to drink. After a minute, Neville sat up a little straighter and grasped Harry's hand. There was no further confirmation needed. Salvation was only a few steps away.

"When could you expect Bellatrix to come up here?" Harry rose from the floor and helped Neville stand. He handed him a second vial of potion and then gathered his Invisibility Cloak.

"She's never come for me this early before, but that doesn't mean she isn't walking around the house somewhere, especially with what's going on outside," Neville said. "Are you sure she hasn't joined the fighting?"

"I'm sure," Harry responded. "Voldemort isn't there either." He lifted the Cloak and held it up. "We can both fit under here, but I think we'll have to take it slow. There's a window open in the basement I can help you through without anyone outside noticing."

"But won't that leave you inside the house unprotected?" Neville asked as they headed towards the door.

"Only for a few seconds," Harry whispered. He traded the empty vials in Neville's hand for the last of the strengthening solution in his and tiptoed towards the door to look out. Neville finished the potion as Harry came back. "It's still quiet." He took the last vial from Neville and slipped it into his pocket. He handed the other boy his wand.

"I don't think I can do any spells," Neville said. He traced the end of his wand with one finger before slipping it into the pocket of his trousers. "Voldemort—"

"He can't hurt you right now," Harry said. "I'm only giving it to you just in case. I think we can get out without either of them catching us. And you should be able to defend yourself once the last of the potion kicks in." He held up the Cloak and motioned for Neville to get under it with him.

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and shook off Sirius's arm. Looking around her, she glanced around the Gryffindor common room and then towards the stairs.

"We can't do this," Sirius said. "I can't knowingly let you put a bunch of other kids in danger."

"If it makes you feel better, you can tell Dumbledore I didn't give you a choice," Hermione said over her shoulder. "It's early. I bet my roommates are still asleep."

"Hermione—" Sirius stopped when he realized the girl had darted up the stairs. Scarcely a minute later, he heard a scream; several more followed. He glanced up the stairs in time to see Hermione run across the landing and head for the boys' dorms. Lavender and Parvati came running down the stairs seconds later, the latter girl's hair floating around her head.

"What is going on?" Lavender asked. She tugged at the knot of her school tie k, turning as Hermione came down the stairs. She was followed quickly by Ron, who was struggling to button up his shirt.

"Does everyone have their wands?" Hermione asked. She pushed past Sirius at the foot of the stairs and motioned for them to join her in the center of the room.

"It's happening, isn't it?" Ron asked. He glanced at Parvati and Lavender. "The fight has started."

"If you've changed your minds about helping, now is your last chance to back out," Hermione said. She held out the Portkey she'd snatched from Sirius and motioned for them to come closer again. Sirius glanced at his watch and then moved quickly across the common room, grabbing one of the shoe's laces as the students watched.

"There's no more time," Sirius said. At his words, the three students grabbed the shoe in various places, seconds before it began glowing and transported them into the area of trees where the battle had already begun.

"I'm sorry," Neville said. Harry helped him up and then slipped an arm around his waist. Neville hated feeling helpless, especially when Harry needed him to use every bit of strength he had. He felt lucky to still be sane after all that had happened, but he knew that would be little consolation if they ended up getting caught because he didn't have the physical strength to escape.

"Don't be sorry," Harry whispered. "I know how hard this is for you. I don't blame you, I blame that crazy bitch for hurting you."

Neville nodded and pulled the Cloak around himself again; he winced as he tried to put weight on his ankle and it started to fold beneath him. "I don't think I can do this."

"Of course you can," Harry said. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"I don't believe either of you is going very far." Bellatrix reached forward and pulled the Invisibility Cloak away from Harry and Neville and tossed it to the floor. She pointed her wand at Neville and smiled. "I suppose if I hadn't broken your leg last night, you might have hobbled away a little faster." She kicked at Neville's ankle and he gasped, pulling his foot from the floor. "I have to admit, this is far less entertaining than having to chase you, but we've had plenty of fun over the last several days, haven't we?"

She gestured towards the front of the house. "That is your doing?" she asked Harry.

He nodded and a blast of blue light shot from the end of her wand, hitting Harry square in the chest. Harry collapsed to his knees with a scream, Neville fell to the floor next to him. "Two loyal men have already lost their lives due to your interference," Bellatrix said over Harry's cries. "They will be the last." Bending, she reached into Harry's pocket and pulled out his wand. She grabbed Neville's wand from him before releasing Harry from the spell. "Get up," she ordered. "I have something to show you."

Harry helped Neville stand and they began moving down the hallway at her direction. After a command, they stopped and waited while Bellatrix opened a door on their left. Harry and Neville turned to look inside. Draco was in the center of the room, floating above the floor inside a translucent green bubble. His face was contorted in scream after silent scream. From what Harry could see, he didn't appear to have anything close to the physical injuries Neville had suffered, but he knew Bellatrix wouldn't stop at mere physical torture if she wanted to hurt someone—especially if she believed Draco had been working against her. He thought it was a miracle the boy was still alive, though he probably wished he wasn't.

"Don't feel bad for my nephew, boys," Bellatrix said. "He made his choices and he is living to regret them. You will not have that luxury." She pulled the door closed and motioned for them to continue up the hall. When they reached the stairs, Harry turned quickly and swung his fist to hit Bellatrix. She sent him crashing to the floor with one quick flick of her wand.

"Still playing games, I see," Bellatrix said. "When are you going to learn that you're no match for us?" Her smile widened as Harry leaned up from the floor, cradling one of his arms to his chest. "Aw, did the wittle baby hurt himself?"

"You're never going to get away with this," Harry said. He started to move his arm and flinched.

Her low laugh filled the empty hall. "Potter, what you don't get is that we've already won. You didn't think finding out about this house was an accident, did you?" She smiled at Harry's wide-eyed expression. "That's right, Harry. You were fooled again. Never let it be said you'd learned from the mistakes of your past."

"I don't believe you," Harry said. "Voldemort didn't let me read his thoughts on purpose. He—"

"He lost control of his emotions. He's too weak to block his thoughts. He has no idea what you're capable of," Bellatrix supplied. She smirked and bent closer to Harry. "You have a history of being too cocky for your own good. If you were half as intelligent as the Minister seems to think you are, you might have thought of it before now. There's a reason he can fool you so easily, though you should know—"

With a grunt, Neville pushed all of his body weight onto Bellatrix, knocking her to the floor. Before she could react, Harry punched her in the face and Neville grasped her shoulders, slamming the back of her head onto the floor until she fell unconscious; a trickle of blood trailed from the corner of her mouth.

"I don't care how much that hurt me, she was asking for it," Neville said. He punched her unconscious form again before sliding his body from hers to the floor; pain flared through the lower half of his body and his hand.

"Cracking her head open is kinder than what I've been thinking about," Harry responded. He pulled Bella's wand from her hand and retrieved both their wands from her pocket, returning Neville's wand to him. "What do you want to do with her?"

"Head first down the stairs sounds good." Neville glanced down the hall again. "Voldemort's going to know we've escaped soon if he doesn't already. We need to go. We—we'll have to send somebody back for Draco." Using the corner of a doorway as leverage, Neville pulled himself up until he was standing.

Harry nodded. "_Incarcerous_." Thick ropes shot from his wand and bound Bellatrix. He levitated her through an open doorway and dropped her onto the floor. "Are you ready?" he asked, turning back to Neville. The other boy picked up the Invisibility Cloak and held it out for Harry.

"She was right about Voldemort," Neville whispered as they made their way down the stairs. "He knows what he's doing this time. There's something different. Haven't you felt it?"

"Shh." Harry glanced around the first floor as they reached the foot of the stairs. "I can't get you through the basement on that leg." He'd tugged Neville through the front door and began making his way in the direction of the fighting when a sharp flare of pain stopped Harry in his tracks. He heard Neville moan next to him before both boys fell to the ground, each of them clutching their scars as pain pulsated through them.

Voldemort reached forward and pulled the Invisibility Cloak from the boys, a grin overtaking his pale face. "Oh, don't be so surprised," he said as Harry turned to him. "You never had a chance. I am in your heads." One long finger pointed at Harry's scar and the pain intensified. "Indeed, in your very souls."


	19. Vanquished

The moment the Portkey transported them and the shoe dropped to the ground, Hermione felt regret at dragging her friends into this fight to the death. There were bodies and pieces of fighters scattered around them on the ground. Blood was splattered against the trees and soaked the grass in great puddles. Before they could take stock of what was happening, the fight spread to absorb the group in its chaos. Over the growing melee, Hermione caught sight of three people outlined against the house and then she lost track of them as she was swept into battle, ducking and firing as Death Eaters descended on the small group.  


* * *

  
Without a second's thought, Harry crawled to sit in front of Neville. Pain continued to thunder behind his eyes with nearly unbearable intensity. His eyes widened on the pale form standing in front of him, at once different from the Voldemort he'd met when he was fourteen, but familiar. Fitting as they'd met more than once in Harry's dreams, their connection altered by little more than a small change in Harry's past.

"So protective, still," Voldemort said. His voice sent a chill through Harry. "Nothing you can do will keep me from killing both of you." He extended a claw-like hand over both boys and laughed softly as their pain increased. "I'm afraid bravery will get you little but a faster death," Voldemort said. He squeezed his hand into a fist and both boys struggled to breathe. "In your case, that may seem a blessing." He relaxed his hand and lifted his wand again, grinning as both his victims screamed in response to the pain radiating from their scars.

Harry's eyes closed and he crouched closer to the ground, barely conscious in his fruitless attempts to block Neville from Voldemort's view. Steeling himself, he gripped his wand, opened his eyes and raised it, only to have Voldemort knock him back. He tried again, only to be knocked to the ground a second time, screams tearing from his throat.

"We are long past the time when we can pretend you have the power to win, Potter." Voldemort bent over him and forced Harry to open his eyes. "Dumbledore may have known you would fight me together, but he never knew your true weakness would be overconfidence in the very powers I gave you."

"We are not the weak ones," Harry said. His voice was raspy, but he felt himself growing stronger as Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Until a few days ago you were practically bedridden." He cleared his throat and raised his wand. "Dumbledore knows we can take you down and your arrogance is the best weapon we have."

Voldemort laughed and stepped back, moving his arm in a sweeping bow. "What a beautiful speech to portend your death. I shall make sure to tell your mother of your grandiose monologue just before I kill her." He took another step back and his thin lips stretched over his teeth in a grin. "Are you going to stand and die like a man, then?" He released them from the spell and watched with amusement as both picked up their wands and brandished them in his direction.

Neville's hand shook but his eyes were steady as he readied himself to fight. Slowly, Harry stood and pulled Neville to stand next to him. The other boy was trembling, but balanced himself on one leg with Harry's help. "I don't care if we die today," Neville said. "It'll be worth it if we can take you with us."

In unison, the three raised their wands and began the fight that would end with at least one of them dead.  


* * *

  
A Death Eater knocked Lavender back and she fell, unconscious. "No!" Tonks put a Shield Spell around her, turned and quickly hit her attacker in his side, splitting open his black robes. "You want to kill someone, Carrow," she said, advancing on him with her wand drawn, "You'll find it a hell of a lot harder to kill me."

At her words, the heavy-set man turned to her; he clutched his side, his face narrowed in rage. "What's one little girl's life for another?" he asked just before raising his wand. A bright flash of purple lit the end of his wand before zigzagging through the air. Tonks jumped out of the way and barely kept herself from screaming as the spell hit an Auror standing behind her, catching him by surprise; Kingsley's intestines shot out of his midsection in a bright red clump, covering the ground before him in a mess of entrails and blood before he collapsed on top of it in a heap.

Screaming, she advanced on the Death Eater, anger at what had happened to her coworker blinding Tonks to everything but the man she was about to kill.  


* * *

  
He was weightless. It had taken mere seconds, but Voldemort had broken down Harry's carefully constructed mental barriers and was forcing his opponent to bow using the Imperius Curse. Harry let go of Neville and focused his energy on blocking the connection until the weightless feeling left him.

"It's going to take more than that, Voldemort," he said, panting. "You don't have it in you to kill both of us."

"Ah, but you still don't understand, Potter," Voldemort said. He raised one hand and sent Harry to his knees, screaming. "I don't need to fight you to destroy you."  


* * *

  
"Parvati, watch out!" Hermione screamed and tried to protect the girl as a tree branch nearly three times her size was brought down on top of her. Hermione was too late to stop it from hitting Parvati altogether, but the branch had scarcely come down on top of Parvati's leg before a blast from nearby shattered it. Hermione turned to see Ron running up beside her, his hand covering a bleeding gash on his cheek.

"Are you all—" Before he could finish his sentence, Ron was interrupted by a shouted spell from a Death Eater coming from behind a tree. The caster was felled by Sirius in a series of quick spells.

"Into the woods," Sirius said. He glanced at Parvati. She lay against the tree, unconscious and mostly hidden by what was left of the branch that had fallen over her. "Now!" he shouted, turning to face a group of fighters running towards him. Neither student listened and stayed to fight as Sirius struggled to protect the unconscious girl from being murdered as she lay helpless.  


* * *

  
Voldemort screamed in frustration; his shock at Neville turning a spell back on him was short-lived as the boy quickly grew tired. Harry raised his wand and reinforced the spell that had temporarily held Voldemort at bay. He began pulling out reserves of energy he didn't know he had, forcing every bit of strength he possessed out through his chest and arm and wand until he felt his entire body thrumming with power. The pain he'd been feeling lightened and then disappeared altogether, forced away as Voldemort began to buckle beneath the strength of the spell.

Neville rejoined Harry, wand raised, his own energy focused as the two advanced on the powerful older wizard. With another primal scream, Voldemort raised his wand in their direction and sent a blast of magic strong enough to rock the earth beneath them. Both boys began to weaken considerably, but held their ground, their screams merging into one as their bodies were taken over, shaking, by the power flowing between them before it stopped, spent, and released them from its hold. There was a blast of light bright enough to blind three pairs of unseeing eyes and then all three collapsed.  


* * *

  
"We have to stay and help," Hermione said. She frowned as Ron pulled her further away from the field surrounding the house. "There are still Death Eaters who haven't been caught."

"Wait." Lavender entered the trees just behind Hermione. She was limping but moving quickly in spite of her injuries. She caught up with them in seconds and them walked briskly beside them as they watched the ongoing battle from the thin shelter of trees at the edge of the property.

"We have to hide further back," Ron said. "Sirius wanted us back here for our protection."

"Parvati is still back there," Lavender said. She raised a hand to wipe tears from her face and smeared her cheek with blood.

"He's protecting her," Ron said. He turned in a circle, his wand held out before him. Satisfied that no one had followed them, he redoubled his grip on Hermione's arm and began pulling her back again, not releasing her until they were barely close enough to hear the anguished screams of the fighters still in battle.

Hermione rubbed the place on her arm where Ron had grabbed her. "I still say we can't be here for long. Harry and Neville may need us."

"They have to fight him alone," Lavender reminded her. "Didn't you see them?"

Hermione nodded. "They were at the corner of the house." She sniffed. "I couldn't tell if they were winning," she said in a small voice.

"Of course they will," Ron assured her. "They trained far more than we did and we've barely been hurt." He glanced around at the three of them, noting that Lavender didn't appear to have an injury more serious than the gash on her leg and Hermione was only suffering from a handful of cuts and bruises on her face and chest. He had been Stunned at least twice and then protected by Aurors until he was able to fight again. Harry had been right. Their training didn't matter much when it came down to it; they had all been pretty damn lucky.

"I want to go back," Hermione said. "I don't care what Sirius said. They could need our help. And I can't stand not knowing."

"Me either," Lavender said. "Come on, Ron," she pleaded, "You know we didn't go through all of this to hide behind trees while everyone else fights."

"Fine," he said, facing stares from both girls. "There can't be many of them left anyway and—Hermione!" Instinctively, she ducked and a bright red blast hit the tree at the level her head had been seconds before.

As the Death Eater emerged from behind a tree, Ron raised his wand and shouted a spell. He watched in horror as blood spurted in a wide arc and the man's head fell from his body and rolled towards them. Hermione shrieked and leapt back; the head stopped just before her feet.

She grabbed Ron's shoulder and turned him to face her. "Where did you learn that spell?"

"I don't…" He stepped back as the head moved on the ground again, the lifeless eyes seeming to stare out at them. "It was written into that advanced potions book Harry had. I had no idea it would do that." Glancing at the head again, Ron turned suddenly and vomited down the front of his robes.

"Come on," Lavender said, grabbing Hermione's wrist. "I don't see anyone else. I want to check on Parvati. I'm not sure she's safe where we left her." Hermione nodded. After waiting for Ron to clean the front of his robes, they made their way through the woods back to the house. The fight appeared to be over and no one alive was still around. Bodies of fighters were scattered all over. The teens stepped over them, careful not to disturb the dead from either side.

"She was right here," Ron said, pointing to the bottom of a tree. A note of panic had crept into his voice. There was little left of the branch that had fallen on their friend to mark the place where they'd seen her last. "Where is she?"

As if in answer, Sirius Apparated in several feet away with a loud crack and approached the teenagers. "I'm so sorry we had to leave you like that," he said. "It was safer to get you out of the way as the battle was winding down. They were getting more desperate. Then the Aurors needed everyone they could to get the injured to St. Mungo's. That's where we took your friend."

"Is she all right?" Lavender asked.

Sirius nodded. "She's one of the lucky ones. I think it was just a break." He glanced around at the group. "Are any of you seriously injured? Never mind, it doesn't matter," he said. "I've got to get you checked out anyway." He began reaching for Hermione's hand.

"Wait," Hermione said. "Where are they?" She began looking around frantically, her eyes searching the outskirts of the property. "I haven't seen Harry or Neville since well before we went into the woods."

"They're still on the other side of the house." Ron followed as Hermione ran from the wide expanse of trees and across the field, ignoring the carnage as they raced to find out what had happened to their friends. As they rounded the corner of the house, Hermione caught sight of Voldemort and then Harry and Neville in the distance. All had their wands drawn, the two boys nearly huddled together as they faced their common enemy. Ron pulled up beside her and held Hermione back as they watched the scene unfold. There were several bright flashes of light and then all three figures in the distance collapsed to the ground.  


* * *

  
"No!" Hermione fell to her knees next to Harry. Ron tried to pull her back by her shoulder and she shook him off, throwing herself over her boyfriend's body as she shouted his name over and over. She began pounding on his chest with one hand. "No," she repeated as Ron grabbed for her again. "He's not dead. We can bring him back. We can save him. Voldemort didn't destroy—" She broke off then and turned to Voldemort's body. The lifeless pale husk lay curled on the grass in a heap, the bloody eyes unseeing. Hermione kicked at his head; her foot met his skull with a heavy thud. When Ron tried to pull her away a second time, she didn't resist, turning into his arms as they both cried for their dead friends.

A minute later Lavender had joined them, but Hermione could feel none of the sympathy she knew she should be feeling for what the other girl had lost. She felt little more than latent rage and a cool determination that she would do everything she had to do now that the worst had come to pass, providence help anyone who tried to get in her way.


	20. Secrets and  Promises

She wasn't crying. That was the smallest of blessings, but one Sirius knew he couldn't count on for long. The truth hadn't sunk in yet. The shock prevented that as much as the potion she'd taken earlier that day. But when Lily finally felt the full measure of her grief, he wasn't sure how she would deal with losing Harry, if at all. When he'd come home with Hermione, Lily had come into his arms without waiting for an explanation. She hadn't needed one. They'd been sitting on his sofa for the past hour, his hands and robes covered in someone else's blood, Lily staring off unblinking and numb. For now. It was waiting for her shock to wear off that kept Sirius holding on by the barest thread, forcing his mind to avoid recalling the last he'd seen of his godson that day. This too would pass.

Hermione stood in the doorway of the sitting room with her arms around herself, watching as Sirius comforted Lily. Feeling cold suddenly, she backed away, turning to run up the stairs and into the room Harry had been in just hours before. His presence was still there. In the rumpled sheets and dented pillow. In the pile of dirty clothes near the bathroom door. And in the note he'd left next to the bed that she didn't have the heart to open. She probably never would.  


* * *

  
"Tell me what she said."

"I've already told you," Ron responded. He'd been careful not to move his lips much as he spoke, but he still felt as if the split in his face was close to opening up again. He reached up and tentatively ran a hand over the bandage.

"I don't care!" Parvati snapped. She glanced at Lavender. The other girl was still curled up on the other bed; heavy sedatives supplied by one of the nurses at St. Mungo's kept her unconscious. From the way her eyelids fluttered and the sounds she made every few minutes, Parvati knew it was only a matter of time before the nightmare going on in Lavender's mind would once again give way to the real life nightmare she'd temporarily escaped. For now, she would rest. If only they could all be so lucky.

"Tell me," Parvati repeated. "I don't believe Hermione was just saying something like that."

"Of course she was," Ron countered. "She was upset. There's no way she could have meant—"  
"Ron."

He frowned. "She said Voldemort didn't destroy Harry. That we can bring him back." He shook his head as Parvati swore. "Of course, she was out of her mind by then. You didn't hear the way Hermione was screaming when Sirius told us we had to leave. She had no way of knowing what she was saying at that point."

"Who are you trying to convince?" Parvati asked. "Hasn't she been telling us all this time that she doesn't want to let him go?"

"That doesn't mean she's found a way for it to happen," Ron said. At Parvati's sigh, he sank into the chair next to her hospital bed and tentatively took her hand in his, careful of the bandages around her fingers. "This wasn't something anyone planned for. We knew what might happen to them and—"

"And Hermione knows a way to bring them back," Parvati said. "I want to talk to her about it."

"It's not possible. No one can be brought back from the dead," Ron said, his voice choking on the last word.

"Voldemort was."

"He wasn't dead," Ron reminded her. "He screwed up his life trying to become immortal. There's no way Harry did anything close to that. And you didn't see them…after." He closed his eyes and a vision of his friends falling to the ground played before his eyes. Ron remembered the still-warm feel of Neville's skin as he'd reached over to close his eyes. He squeezed his hand into a fist as tears burned beneath his eyelids. Ron reopened his eyes to meet Parvati's gaze.

"It was real," he said, his voice soft.

"If I know Hermione, she's not going to let reality get in her way," Parvati said. "Especially if she thinks she's already figured out how to get around it."

Ron squeezed her fingers gently, but said nothing. Whatever Hermione had been babbling about earlier, there was nothing that could change the truth of what he'd witnessed. Her determination to keep Harry in her life couldn't defy one of the few truths they shared with the Muggle world: Death was an irrefutable and inescapable fact. He only hoped Hermione wasn't crazy enough to believe she could change that.  


* * *

  
When Dumbledore stepped off the elevator onto the fourth floor at St. Mungo's, he expected to be greeted by a number of things. Questions from the papers he wasn't prepared to answer. The faces of the Aurors who'd lived, disappointed in the number of casualties their side had suffered. What he hadn't expected was the silent face of Augusta Longbottom, staring at him as if she expected her grandson to step out of the car behind him. That look brought with it a sense of guilt—one he knew to be misplaced but felt all the same. He hadn't created this situation and certainly couldn't have stopped it from turning out the way it had.

"Augusta," he said, approaching the woman. "I am so sorry for your loss."

Nodding, she approached him slowly, her lips pressed together. Dumbledore reached for her hands and she pulled back before slapping him with all the strength she could muster. The stinging slap wasn't exactly welcome, but it was a far better alternative to another way she could've taken her feelings out on him.

"I understand why you—"

"You understand nothing!" Augusta shouted. "You've lost nothing. The Ministry got exactly what it wanted—the Boy Who Lived took out the biggest threat our world has ever faced and you never had to lift a finger. Were you even there when he died? Or did you not have to show your face to ensure your plan was executed perfectly?"

Before he could respond, he heard a voice call down the hallway, "Is that him? Has he finally gotten here?" before he was surrounded by angry parents.

"What possessed you to allow _children_ to fight today?" He'd turned to face Lavender's father Alan, but was cut off before he could answer. "Don't bother answering. I never expected much from you as Minister, but I never thought you would send children to do the work of adults. And what do you have to show for it? Two dead children, one who's lost his senses and nearly a dozen Aurors dead or injured." Alan frowned as he poked a finger at the center of Dumbledore's chest. "You may not have to answer to us for what you've done, but you can be sure the Wizengamot will not be understanding when it comes to what happened today."

"Mr. Brown, I assure you, I never planned for the children to be involved today."

"Oh, is that why they've spent the past few weeks training for this?" Dumbledore turned again and came face to face with an irate Molly Weasley. "Yes, Ron told me, after a Healer made sure he wasn't going to lose half of his face!" She grabbed the front of Dumbledore's robes, screamed and pushed him. "Do you have any idea how close he came to being killed?"

"You're lucky all of our children weren't killed!" Amara Patil screamed. She pulled out her wand and thrust it under Dumbledore's chin. "Do you know how close my daughter came to dying today? Do you even care?"

"Amara, no," Molly said. She grabbed the other woman's arm and pulled her back. "He's not worth it." When Alan walked the other two women back down the hall, Augusta turned to Dumbledore.

"You may not have created this prophecy," she began, "but you made sure it played out the way it did. One day you'll pay for that." Without another word, she turned from him and joined the parents outside of Parvati Patil's room.  


* * *

  
She didn't know how long it had been—half the day, maybe—before she heard Dumbledore's voice travel up the stairs. He was asking about her. Asking how she was coping, if she'd eaten anything, if she'd talked about it yet. Hermione didn't hear Sirius's answer, but she didn't need to. Neither of the house's other two occupants had thought of her since they'd returned to the house that morning, and would not have given her any consideration if the Minister hadn't reminded them of her existence. It was ironic, in a way. When Harry had been there, Lily couldn't stop talking about Hermione's influence on her son. He'd been gone mere hours and now his girlfriend was as much a ghost as he was—forgotten in the shadow of everyone's grief.

When Hermione spotted the Minister in the doorway of the bedroom, she avoided his eyes in the mirror above the dresser. She'd had enough of pity when Ron had repeatedly attempted to calm her before she finally found the strength to push him away. There was only one thing she needed from Albus Dumbledore and it wasn't a shoulder to cry on. She looked up again and their eyes met in the mirror.

"Do you have it?" Hermione asked.

The Minister frowned at her and nodded.

"Then what are you waiting for? Do it. Now," Hermione ordered. When Dumbledore didn't move, she turned to him, her mouth set in anger.

"You know we can't do whatever we wish with Harry's remains. It would be disrespectful."

"You're worried about _being disrespectful to his remains_?" Hermione shouted. She began to tremble. "He is dead and all I want is for you to bring him back! That is all. You told me you'd find a way to fix what he'd done and save him if you couldn't. I lived up to my part of the deal. I helped him get ready. I—I kept up his morale as best I could. I let him go!" Dumbledore reached a hand out to her and she shook it off.

"No! You don't get to pretend to comfort me. You do what you promised. That's how you can comfort me. You bring him back. And if you refuse, I will." She eyed the glass globe he had removed from the pocket of his robes. "And don't dare tell me I can't do the spell work it would require. I don't care how much I'd have to learn. Harry needs to be here. He didn't deserve to die."

"And Neville Longbottom did?"

Hermione glared at the Minister.

"I did make you a promise, Miss Granger. And I intend to keep it. If Lily gives her consent. Otherwise—"

"She will," Hermione assured him, heading for the door. "I'll see to it."  


* * *

  
The moment Sirius closed the door to the sitting room, Hermione cast a spell to lock it and another to cut off all sound. She had a feeling Lily would react with more than a little surprise and the last thing she needed was Sirius interfering with what had to take place.

"What's this about?" Lily asked. She glanced back and forth between the Minister and Hermione, her mouth pulling down when neither answered. "It's been hours. I should probably get back to my daughter and tell her…what happened." Lily swallowed. "I wouldn't think you and I had anything left to say to one another," she said to Hermione.

"I have plenty to say," Hermione responded.

"Miss Granger—"

"Minister," Hermione began. "With all due respect, I think I'm the one that needs to explain."

"Explain what?" Lily asked. "Don't tell me there's more."

"Harry—" She paused and looked away from Lily for a few seconds. The pain flashing in those eyes was more than she cared to see at the moment, but she had to deal with it if she was going to do what needed to be done. "The past few weeks were difficult, especially knowing what might happen." Hermione looked at Lily again and took a deep breath. "After this morning, I know what we did was right." She motioned between herself and Dumbledore. "We found a way to keep Harry in our lives—to bring him back to us exactly as he was." There was a long silence as Lily let Hermione's words sink in.

"Wait." Lily looked back and forth between them. "I don't understand how this is even possible. Harry is dead. How can we bring him back?"

"He's not really gone," Hermione said. Reaching a hand out to the Minister, she waited until he put the small glass globe that had contained Harry's prophecy into her hand. "We created a Horcrux for him a few weeks ago." She held her hand out to Lily, briefly allowing herself to feel surprise that she wasn't as shaky on the outside as she was inside. "We've saved all of his memories from the day this was created up until he left to go after Voldemort."

"That doesn't make any sense," Lily said. "I know how a Horcrux is created. After everything you told me about Harry's past, I don't think there was any time when he could have split his soul."

Hermione looked over to Dumbledore. He put a hand on Lily's shoulder. "The day Severus was killed—"

"No!" Lily pushed his hand away and took several steps back. "You told me he saved your lives. That's what he did. It was self-defense. Sev was attacking him."

"Harry had been talking about killing him for days before that," Hermione said. "You can ask Professor McGonagall. He went into that room knowing what he was going to do. It's a coincidence that Harry had to help Sirius and the Minister before he could carry out his plan."

"You knew?" Lily asked. She pointed at Hermione. "You knew and you didn't try to talk him out of it?"

"I knew, but there was nothing I could do. Believe me, I tried to talk him out of it," Hermione said. "He felt like he had to, to avenge his father's death."

"And he felt no remorse afterwards," Dumbledore added. "That is why I could not assist him in putting the pieces back together. After I had confirmed what he'd done to himself, I created a Horcrux for Harry in case—"

"In case this mission you were sending him on came to its natural conclusion," Lily finished. "I see. It was okay to send my son to die, because you knew you could bring him back if you had to. Why couldn't you just take out the part of his soul with Voldemort's soul attached to it?"

"Because that part was bound to his body through his scar," Dumbledore said. "We did not do this because we were sure Harry was going to die."

"But you weren't sure he would live," Lily stated. Her eyes narrowed on Hermione. "This is the secret you've been keeping all this time? Why you acted to strangely when I asked why you'd left the school. He never knew, did he?"

"No," Hermione said, flushing. "I'm not sure how he would have reacted, to be honest. He said he never felt Professor Snape's death was murder, so I don't think he'd have been able to accept what he did to himself."

"That is all moot," Dumbledore said. "Now, we must decide what to do."

"There are no decisions to be made." Hermione grabbed Lily's arm. "You have to give him permission to create another body for Harry. We have can have him back in a few days."

"Miss Granger, it's not that simple."

"Of course it is," she replied, turning to him. "You know exactly how to do it."

"I know a way it is possible," Dumbledore corrected her. "I still believe Harry was adverse to any known method that would bring him back from the dead."

"He didn't want to use the potion outlined in the Key," Hermione said. "He never said he was against anything else. If Voldemort found a way to create himself a body that didn't involve sacrificing anyone or using blood, why can't we try that?"

"You're splitting hairs, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "I viewed Harry's memory as well. The body Voldemort was in was a deformed mockery of a human body. If we do not handle this precisely, Harry could end up in that state or worse."

"I don't want to take that chance," Lily said.

"We won't be taking a chance," Hermione said firmly. "Harry will live again and he'll be fine." She turned to Dumbledore. "You can do this. You can bring him back, safely. You have to." She moved her hand to squeeze Lily's hand and felt relief when the other witch squeezed hers back. "We can't lose him. Not again."


	21. Lie of Omission

Hermione took a deep breath before stepping out of the Floo into the Gryffindor common room. It looked much the same as it had the last time she'd seen it—the same sofas, chairs and tables, the same paintings looking down at her. There was one new addition. In a corner, next the bulletin board, someone had placed pictures of Neville and Harry side by side on a table. Neville's picture showed him walking into the Yule Ball with Lavender on his arm. Harry's was a more recent one of him sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall—Hermione could see the jagged edge of his scar just beneath the fall of his hair. On the table in front of the photos were a little more than a dozen candles.

Hermione walked over and smiled when she saw the collection of small scrawled notes scattered among the candles. She couldn't bring herself to read any of them, but she had an idea both Harry and Neville would've appreciated the gesture. Staring at Harry's photo, she resisted the urge to remove it from the table. That would come, in time.

She turned to Neville's photo. "I'm sorry we couldn't save you," Hermione whispered. Then she turned away from the table, left the common room and headed downstairs towards the Great Hall.

Several heads turned when Hermione entered the Great Hall. She felt a moment's regret that she hadn't insisted Lily or Sirius accompany her, but she knew they both had something more important to take care of that day. Ignoring the whispers that had begun, she stalked down the wide aisle dividing the rows of benches until she reached the row near the front where her friends sat. "Is there room for me?"

Ron looked up at her, surprise widening his red-rimmed eyes. "Professor McGonagall said you might not be coming." He moved over to allow her room. He scratched absently at the bandage covering the wound on his face. "I thought it might be too much for you."

Hermione leaned forward to look past Ron. She waved at Parvati and Lavender on his other side. Both girls still had faint scars on their arms and faces, but appeared otherwise unharmed. Physically, at least. No amount of makeup could cover the puffiness around Lavender's eyes, but the girl looked as if that was the least of her concerns. After she'd greeted Hermione, her eyes returned to a portrait of Neville propped on an easel at the front of the room, just before the podium. He was laughing in the photo. Hermione imagined if she closed her eyes, she could practically hear the familiar sound. As she watched, Lavender's eyes filled with tears and she let them fall down her face unchecked, nodding as Parvati whispered to her and rubbed her shoulder.

"I wanted to say goodbye to him as much as anyone else," Hermione said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's been three days, Ron. I know I was upset the last time you saw me, but why would you think this would be too much for me?"

"Because of Harry," Ron said. "I don't know why, but McGonagall cancelled his funeral. It was supposed to be right after this one. Maybe his mum didn't want to have another public service, but I thought she'd at least allow his friends a chance to say goodbye."

"Of course there's no funeral," Hermione stated. "Harry's not dead." Hermione leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes briefly at the gasps of those around her.

"Hermione," Ron began, "I know what you said the other day, but—" The expression on her face as she turned to him made him pause.

"He's at Sirius's house, resting." Her tone was firm, but her lips trembled as she spoke.

"What?" Lavender turned to her, confusion making her focus on Hermione for the first time since she'd sat down. "What are you talking about? We saw their bodies."

"I knew it," Parvati said. "What did you do?"

Ron simply stared at her in silence, confusion and fear at what lengths Hermione might have gone to rendering him speechless.

"I didn't do anything," Hermione said, sitting up straighter. "I said it the other day, Voldemort couldn't take Harry from me, no matter what he did." She took a deep breath and glanced around her. In spite of their hushed voices, a number of people around them were listening to the conversation. "His injuries may have been severe at the time, but when we got him back to the house, we found that he was still alive and we were able to heal him. Which reminds me," she crossed her arms, "that shrine in the common room is beautiful, but Harry's picture needs to come down. It gives people the wrong idea."

Ron put a hand on her shoulder which was quickly brushed off. "But, what—"

"Shh," Hermione said. She pointed to the front of the room as Professor McGonagall stepped up to the podium. "It's starting."

Hermione was grateful Ron chose not to question her lies further, but she could tell from the way he continued staring at her that she would be hard-pressed to escape after the funeral without giving him a much better explanation than the one she'd come up with minutes before. Really, how could she expect anyone to believe the Boy Who Lived had died at Voldemort's hands and Harry Potter hadn't? Especially someone who knew the full truth about him.

She would deal with it when the time came. That was one thing she and Lily had agreed on—no one outside of the two of them, Dumbledore and Sirius would ever know the full truth. And Harry, of course. That was the only justification for all of this lying. Dumbledore had promised her that by the time she came back to the house, he would be awake and possibly strong enough to get out of bed. His body was whole and his mind would recover from the shock of what had happened soon. That was enough. It would have to be enough.  


* * *

  
"I can't take this anymore," Lily said as she paced. She stopped in front of Harry's bedroom door again and swore. "This waiting is driving me crazy."

"Are you sure that's not guilt you're feeling?"

Lily turned and glared at Sirius. He glared back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You don't understand." She resumed walking in front of the closed door. Her footfalls echoed against the wood floor.

"Yes, yes. I don't have children. I've never lost anyone like this. I couldn't possibly understand what would make you and Hermione desperate enough that you'd want to do something like this to your own son." Sirius met Lily's responding glare with another of his own before crossing the hall and grabbing her by both shoulders to hold her still. "Do you really think he's going to react with resounding happiness when you've told him what was going on behind his back?"

"I think my son will be happy to be alive." Lily frowned and pushed at Sirius until he released her. "After all he's been through over the years, he will always be grateful for that much."

"You keep telling yourself that."

She frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, what went on in that room," Sirius said, pointing at the bedroom door, "was nothing short of disturbing. I doubt your son will be happy about it, regardless of the outcome."

"Dumbledore says that physically he is fine. The potion we gave him a few hours ago will help him wake up and hopefully do something about the disorientation we expect."

'That is not—"

"As for ethical concerns," Lily said, interrupting Sirius, "if you had such a problem with what we were doing, why did you allow us to do it in your house? I didn't hear you blathering on about how upset Harry would be when I first told you we had a way to save my son."

Sirius laughed shortly. "Is every conversation we have about this going to end the same way? Are you always going to bring it back to this?"

"It's a valid argument," Lily shot back. "You've been longing to treat him like a James substitute ever since you found out Severus had killed my husband. When we found out we could save him the way we couldn't save James, you couldn't be bothered telling us how wrong it was or that we might want to wait until our grief was—was—"

"Your grief is still controlling your better judgment, but you're right, I should've said something sooner," Sirius said. "That doesn't change the facts. This could go horribly wrong and you, of all people, should've known better."

"What I know is that I'm going to have my son and there are no more threats to him, at school or anywhere else," Lily said. "I'll worry about everything else if the time comes."

"Is there something to worry about?" Lily and Sirius turned as Hermione ran up the stairs and down the hall towards them. "Has something happened?" She glanced at the doorway. "What did Dumbledore say?"

"Nothing so far," Lily said. "We're still waiting."

Hermione visibly relaxed. "I'll be in my bedroom when…when there's news."

"I'll come get you," Sirius promised. She nodded before continuing down the hall and around the corner.

When Hermione had been gone a minute, Lily said, "If you want to blame anyone for this, why don't you start with the person who originated the idea?"

"Come off it, Lily." Lily looked up at Sirius in surprise. "You and your son's girlfriend have had your differences, but you can't expect anyone to pin all the blame for this on her. The two of you have more in common than you're willing to admit." He crossed his arms. "You can't have forgotten how much you were like her at her age. When you finally came around to liking James, you wouldn't let anyone get in the way of the two of you being together. You ignored his and your friends' opinions and the fact that his mother couldn't stand you, especially after she caught the two of you—"

"What is your point?" Lily hissed. "So, we're both…determined."

"Stubborn," Sirius corrected her. "Focused on the immediate. A stickler for rules unless they get in the way. Perhaps a bit too smart for your own good. And you both love Harry more than life itself." Sirius reached out to Lily and touched her chin, turning her face up to his. "You were both so desperate to have Harry, you were willing to do something this crazy to keep him. It's about time you accept her as much as you're willing to accept this now third incarnation of your son."

"Is that all you want? For me to accept her?" Lily pushed his hand away. "I can do that. I just need my son back."

"And thanks to her, you'll have him," Sirius said. "But at what cost?" When Lily didn't answer him, he said, "I'm going to read a bit." He headed towards the stairs. "Let me know when Dumbledore finally comes out of there."  


* * *

  
Harry screamed and shot up from the bed. His eyes darted around the room before finally settling on Hermione sitting next to him. "Neville is…we have to get to him soon. I don't think he can take much more of this."

"Shh, Harry, it's okay." Hermione grabbed his sweaty hand in both of hers and pulled it close to her chest. "Don't worry about Neville right now, just lay back and relax."

"Hermione, what are you going on about? I can't relax, I—" He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Hermione gently pushed his shoulders back until they met with the mattress.

"I thought you said he wouldn't be confused," she whispered. "Do we tell him now or wait?"

"I believe we should wait until it becomes necessary."

Harry opened his eyes as Dumbledore spoke. The older wizard was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, wringing his hands.

"What is going on?" Harry asked. He looked at Hermione again. She squeezed his fingers and attempted a small smile. Lily stood just behind her, the same fake smile plastered to her face. "Did something happen? Have I been sick? The last I remember, I was…" Harry stopped and closed his eyes. "I was telling you, all of you, that I'd found out from Voldemort where they're holding Neville and we can go rescue him. Why," he opened his eyes again, "why am I still here? I need to go." He glanced back at Dumbledore. "I know you think we have to fight him together, but maybe what I've been seeing is a sign that I should fight him by myself because Neville isn't strong enough anymore." He frowned when he glanced at Hermione and she immediately looked towards the Minister.

"What's happened? Why isn't anyone answering me?"

"Harry, there's something we have to tell you." Lily moved to the other side of the bed and took Harry's other hand in hers. "The fight has already taken place. Voldemort is dead."

"What?" Harry's gaze darted around to everyone in the room in confusion before finally settling on his mother. "I don't understand. I don't remember fighting him, but—"

"Shh." Hermione squeezed his hand again. "She's not done."

"It was several days ago," Lily continued. "A number of people died, including your friend Neville."

"I don't believe you," Harry said. "Why can't I remember anything?" He snatched his hands away from Lily and Hermione and struggled to push himself into a sitting position. "The last thing I remember is standing in the kitchen talking to Dumbledore just before we were supposed to leave." Harry frowned. "Was the fight so bad you had to erase my memory?"

"Oh, Harry no, we—" Hermione swallowed hard. "I wish we could erase every bad memory you've had. There are so many of them. I thought I had a real idea what you'd gone through, but—"

"Miss Granger, perhaps you'd better leave the explanation to me." Dumbledore stepped closer and stopped at the foot of the bed. "You also died the other day, Mr. Potter."

Harry stared at him a moment in silence. "But—"

"I had taken steps to create a Horcrux for you several weeks ago, stored your memories and have spent the past several days putting you back together, so to speak. You do not remember the fight because the body and mind you possess now did not experience any of it. The last memory you have is the last I took from you, when we were downstairs just before leaving."

"This is a nightmare," Harry said. "Or hell. That's where I am, right? Because, to tell me I've died and Neville died and my soul is in a new body can't be real." His eyes began to tear. He raised a hand to his forehead and ran his fingers over the spot where his scar was supposed to be. "What did you do to me?" he whispered in a shaking voice.

"It's okay," Hermione pulled his hand away from his forehead. "We found a way to save you. You're going to be fine."

"You just need another day or so to rest," Lily said. She touched Harry's shoulder. "I know this is a lot to get used to, but—"

"Leave." At Harry's order, Lily and Hermione glanced at each other. "Leave," Harry repeated, glancing at the two of them. "And send Sirius in here. I think I need to talk to someone else."

Hermione pouted, but withdrew from the bed, joining Lily and Dumbledore at the doorway of the bedroom. "I'm going to come back and visit you before dinner." When he did nothing but glare back at her, Hermione slipped through the bedroom door and closed it behind her, for the first time letting worry enter the scenario she'd created.  


* * *

  
Several hours later, Hermione knocked on the bedroom door, opened it slowly and then peeked her head around. "Sirius said you asked for me."

Harry nodded and motioned her over to the bed.

As she approached, she offered him a tentative smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Still a little bit confused." Harry drew his arm across his body when Hermione reached for his hand. "I think you have some explaining to do. Sirius didn't know everything, but he said you would have all the answers I need."

Hermione sat next to the bed. Harry was remarkably calm, considering how he'd been yelling at the three of them earlier. Perhaps he was finally ready to listen. "I was worried about you, especially after I did the Arithmancy charts on you and Neville. Now I know why the calculations sometimes showed you alive after last Friday and sometimes they didn't. It was because there was no certainty that we would save you." Hermione smiled. "But now you're here and Dumbledore says this body is almost exactly like the one you had before."

"This isn't a real body, this is an abomination."

Hermione reached out to touch his forehead with a shaking hand. Harry brushed her fingers away. "This is a clean body, untouched by a curse, not carrying a part of someone else's soul."

"It's also untouched by my mother's love and protection, the one thing that saved me before," Harry said. His eyes searched her face. "Is this what you wanted? I'm not even human now, I'm like him."

"That's not true. You're not like him! Of course you're human."

"I was _dead_, Hermione. That's what was meant to happen. How could you do this to me?"

"How could _I_ do this?" she shrieked. "You did it to yourself. The day you murdered Professor Snape."

"For the last time, it was not—"

"You murdered him," Hermione said, cutting him off. "You may have saved several lives while you were doing so, but that doesn't change the facts. You decided several days ahead of time what you were going to do, you gave him that potion and you made the choice to take his life. It wasn't in self-defense."

"So you turn me into this? Was it really that hard for you to accept what might happen? You were lying to me all this time and—"

"I never lied to you! I just didn't tell you because…"

"Because you knew how I'd feel," Harry finished for her.

"No. I knew you could not accept what you'd done," Hermione corrected him. "Do you remember that day at the hospital when Dumbledore explained how Horcruxes were created? He had been trying to tell you what you'd done then, but you wouldn't listen. The moment you cast the spell to kill Snape, your soul split itself. That's why you were in so much pain. They had to keep you knocked out for two days because you were screaming so loudly and there was nothing anyone could do. It wasn't a physical ailment they could cure."

"Answer the question, Hermione. Was it your idea to turn me into a freak of nature?"

"It was my idea to find a way to save your life, yes. When Dumbledore came to the hospital to explain, I guessed what had happened. The day he did the medical scan, he confirmed it. That was when we created a Horcrux with the prophecy globe. If you had been at all sorry for what you'd done, it would have been possible to put the split pieces back together," she added. "Painful, but still possible."

"I thought only I could create my own Horcrux," Harry said. His eyes narrowed. "How do I know Dumbledore didn't split my soul himself?"

"Only you can do that to yourself," Hermione said. "If it was that easy, we could have saved Neville too."

"I can't believe you did this to me," he said after a moment's silence.

Hermione looked away from Harry. "I'm sorry I loved you enough to want to save you—even from yourself," she said. "I love you in spite of what you did to Snape."

"But you—"

"Yes, it was my idea!" Hermione shouted, standing next to the bed. The chair tumbled to the floor behind her. "Dumbledore knew how it could be done safely and your mother gave her permission. You can fault all of us for doing it behind your back, but never forget you're the one that gave us the means." Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the room door closed behind herself.

Several minutes later, Lily walked up the stairs and sat next to Hermione, a cold feeling coming over her as she observed her son's girlfriend sitting with her legs curled on the top steps, her face pressed against her knees. Lily cleared her throat and waited for Hermione to acknowledge her. "He's still upset."

"I think he hates me for what I did." Hermione lifted one hand and wiped at her face quickly. "I don't blame him. I knew he might be upset about it, but I thought if no one got hurt when we brought him back that he'd…I thought he'd be happy we could save him."

Lily put her arm around the crying girl and pulled her close to her side. "I'm sorry he's upset with you. I know what you must think of me, but this isn't what I wanted. I never wanted him to hate you. I just want to know and love him as much as I did before."

"I wish you could too," Hermione said through her sniffles. "It hasn't been as easy for me as you might have thought. It's different because I've been around him almost constantly since school started. I'm not his family, plain and simple." She looked up at Lily and steeled herself not to cry harder looking into the same eyes that had been filled with resentment for her before. "As much as I love him and know him now, what we have will never compare to how he feels about you—especially since he grew up without you. Nothing I could do would ever change that, nor would I want to."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door. "Now, I don't think either of our relationships with him will ever be the same." She looked back at Lily. "He doesn't care why we did it or how it was possible, just that we did. I can't undo that now and, in spite of how upset he is, I wouldn't even if I could. I'd rather have him alive and not speaking to me than have to bury him."

"My son is lucky to have someone in his life who loves him as much as you do." Hermione looked up in surprise at the words. Lily squeezed her shoulder and smiled softly. "I know I've been hard on you and I'm sorry. Really. I'll talk to Harry. He's probably still in shock after all that's happened, but I'm sure he'll come around. We just need to give him time."

Hermione nodded. "And space." Pushing Lily's hand from her shoulder, Hermione stood from the stairs and brushed the dirt from the back of her jeans. "Will you tell Sirius I won't be down for dinner? I don't feel well."

"Of course," Lily said. Hermione began to walk down the hall towards her bedroom. "We'll talk again in the morning."

A brief wave as she disappeared around the corner was the only response Lily got from Hermione.  


* * *

  
Lily did not get the chance to discuss her son with Hermione again. When she went to check on her the next morning, she discovered that Hermione had packed her things and gone back to Hogwarts, leaving nothing behind but separate goodbye notes for Sirius and Lily and the necklace Harry had given her for her birthday. 


	22. Epilogue: Closure

Some things were simple, in the end. The prophecy had been fulfilled in a way the Minister had suspected might happen—the power surge had at first empowered and then overwhelmed the three of them, as far as Dumbledore could tell. There was a time of mourning as funerals of the fighters were held. Then there was celebration as the Wizarding world breathed a common sigh of relief that Voldemort was gone for good and his supporters were tried and imprisoned for their varied crimes.

After a while, the rumors of the death of another student died down, explained away by the confusion and heartache of the battle. For several people, the confusion and pain persisted far beyond the initial onset of grief. Lavender soon learned the true meaning of loneliness as she spent her first few days without Neville talking to his presence in her mind before finally giving up the illusion that he would one day respond. Parvati helplessly watched her friend's slow descent into depression, aided rather than comforted by the constant well-wishes from friends, classmates and the community. Ron spent his hours trying to heal wounds that might never close—his heart, his body, the suffering of his friends. And Hermione resigned herself to the guilt that came with knowing she was the source of several people's grief—or had served to exacerbate it to new levels.

It wasn't just the guilt that was getting to her. Hermione had felt bad about not sharing everything with Harry, but she'd done it for a good reason, right? Or so she had told herself at first. After weeks of silence, she felt sure Harry would never see it that way. He only saw that she'd held something back from him, conspired with Dumbledore and said nothing while he got closer to his temporary death every day. He would never see how she'd argued with the Minister over telling him the truth. How she'd pleaded with Harry to think about what he'd done and try to feel something other than contempt for Snape, even after his death. Harry could only see betrayal.

Not that Hermione could blame him. Or anyone else, for that matter. She was, however, growing tired. Every day, whispers around the Great Hall and the rest of the castle. Looks from other students who'd heard rumors of Harry's death and observed the confusion of the few people who'd seen Harry lifeless on the ground as Hermione had announced he was still alive. Little bothered Hermione more than the looks she got, first from Ron and Parvati, but most often from Lavender—questioning, curious, censuring. They didn't know exactly what she'd done, would never know the full truth of it, but she could feel their resentment like a suffocating pressure on her chest every time they spoke to her, every time she walked into the common room, just before she hid behind the curtains surrounding her bed.

They all wished for Neville as strongly as Hermione had wanted to save Harry and she could offer no reason why one and not the other was still a part of their lives. She could do nothing but attempt to carry on with her life while her guilt was eating away at her, knowing she deserved every bit of contempt and envy she saw in Lavender's eyes. Knowing Harry might never forgive her for what she'd done. Not recognizing the desperate, secretive girl she'd become because of him. For him. And wanting—in spite of everything else—for Harry to love her, even if she no longer felt she deserved it.

As Hermione scanned her essay, her fingers traced absently over the spot where his necklace had rested. She'd forced herself to let go the day she'd left, hoping that Harry would forgive her in time, even if he couldn't care for her as he had before. As the days passed and Harry had written to their friends and professors, Hermione had forced herself to accept the truth. Things between them would never be as they were.

Hermione stopped writing as a shadow crossed the table where she sat in the common room. She moved her eyes over the books spread in front of her and held her breath for a few seconds before going back to her essay. She knew what Ron was going to say before he opened his mouth.

"Has he written to you yet?"

"He's not going to," she responded without looking up. Just what she needed. Her daily reminder from Ron of how she'd failed. She smudged ink on the parchment and picked up her wand quickly to clean it. A few seconds after she resumed writing, Hermione sighed. Ron was still there. She looked up. He stood watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. "Don't you have something better to do than stand over me playing statue?"

"You're being stubborn," Ron stated.

"Right," Hermione said. She put her quill down next to her essay and turned to face Ron fully. "This is my fault, is that what you're saying?"

"I'm not saying it's anyone's fault, it's just that—"

"It was my nefarious plan and therefore I should've expected Harry would hate me forever."

His eyebrows raised. "No, but—"

"So if I want him to come back, I should be the one doing the begging." Hermione arched one eyebrow. "Is that what you're saying?"

Ron looked around the room. Other students were studying for their exams and doing homework, ignoring the pair in the corner.

"Looking for reinforcements again?" she asked, remembering the ambush he'd attempted with Parvati the week before.

He turned back to Hermione, pulled out the chair across from hers and sat. "I think I need to. Someone's got to get through to you. I've never seen you this…"

"Pissed off?" she offered. "Get used to it." Hermione picked up her quill and began scanning the end of her essay. She slammed her quill to the desk and looked back at Ron, her eyes narrowed. "I did everything I could to save Harry and he couldn't spare two seconds to be grateful. Considering I've already had Lavender tell me I'm going to hell and Harry acting like I'm the devil incarnate, don't expect me to be in a chipper mood anytime soon." Hermione snatched up her quill again and drew it across the parchment in swift strokes.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Ron responded. After watching her attack her homework, resulting in the quill going through the parchment and carving into the table beneath, Ron stood. He placed one hand over Hermione's as she repaired the hole in the parchment. "I know it doesn't seem like much after all that's happened, but I really think it'll all work out in the end. Harry would have to be stupid to throw everything you have away."

"Well, he hasn't always proven himself the smartest bloke in the world, has he?" Hermione shook off Ron's hand and looked back at her homework.

Ron sighed. "It doesn't matter what you did—"

"Of course it does," Hermione said, cutting him off. "I hurt him. Period. He can't forgive me and I'm not sorry that what I did made sure he's…still around," she whispered. The admission eased a small amount of the pain weighing on her chest. As Ron's eyes widened, Hermione looked down. It wasn't surprise that had registered in his gaze, merely confirmation of what he already knew. What they all must know but had never said. Except the once.

The day Hermione had returned to school, Lavender said what they all had probably been thinking. _"It doesn't matter what you've done. The rest of us have lost something precious, with nothing to remember him by but some stupid holiday he wouldn't have wanted in his name. You haven't gotten what you deserve yet, but you will. You're going to hell. Not because of what you did for Harry, but because you were too selfish to share it with the rest of us. If there was any chance at all for us to save Neville, I blame you for his not being here now." She pointed at Hermione. "Hell," Lavender had said again before letting Parvati pull her away._

That prediction had come true with eerie precision, giving rise to a misery that Hermione feared would never go away. Maybe that was what she deserved—her punishment for challenging fate and death and pretending like she'd won. Deserved or not, Hermione was quickly reaching a breaking point. She had to do something soon. Either find a way to live with what was happening or cut herself off from feeling altogether. Because living in this…this hell of her own making was more than she could take. More than anyone who'd make her mistakes should have to take.

"I refuse to be sorry for it," Hermione said. "And if you feel the same way Lavender does, that I should burn because I wanted to save him—"

'"I don't," Ron said. He watched her for a few seconds. Her eyes darted back and forth between a space in the distance and the books in front of her; her lips trembled until she pressed them together in a thin line.

He squeezed her hand. "If you need something, even just someone to talk to—" He broke off as Hermione waved one hand in the air, dismissing him. After a few more seconds, he walked away and headed towards his dorm. He hoped Harry would at least talk to her. Hermione was getting more volatile by the day. He'd thought the two solid weeks of crying had been bad, but at this rate, she was going to hurt someone before the new term started. For everyone's sake, and for Hermione's sanity, he hoped they could get back together. After all they'd been through, they deserved to be happy.  


* * *

  
Sirius stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching his godson in silence. Harry had been packing to leave for hours it seemed, lingering over the few clothes and books he'd brought until everything was packed away neatly in his trunk. He'd been staring at something in his hands for the better part of five minutes, so focused he hadn't heard Sirius call him from downstairs.

"Got everything you need?"

Harry jumped at the sound of godfather's voice. He turned, slipping his hand into the pocket of his jeans. But not before Sirius caught a glimpse of the necklace Hermione had left behind. "Yeah, just waiting on my mum to get back." He smiled. "Thank you for letting me stay here. I hated that I was stuck in bed all this time."

"It was no problem," Sirius said. "I was happy to have you. I'm just glad you had a chance to recover," he said slowly.

Harry looked down at scuffed toes of his sneakers. "Right. Can you believe I'm actually looking forward to going back to school for my exams? It feels like it's been ages since I've seen my friends."

"But you've talked to them, haven't you?"

Harry nodded. He kept his gaze firmly glued to the floor. Sirius couldn't blame him. He knew what was going to happen; Lily had previously attempted the same thing. Harry had been avoiding talking about everything that happened, and Hermione especially, easily becoming defensive whenever the subject was broached. Eventually, Lily had stopped trying to get inside her son's head; she settled for spending time with him and helping him gain strength. His godfather wasn't content to let him get off so easily. He might be able to push his mother away when it came to uncomfortable subjects, but after what everyone had been through, and what Harry had done to himself, someone had to get through to him.

"What about Hermione?" Sirius asked. "I get the impression you haven't talked to her since the night before she left."

Harry looked up and crossed his arms. "I think it's better this way. A mutual not speaking thing. It's not like she's sending owl after owl."

"So, you haven't written to her and she hasn't written to you and you're both just waiting for the other to make the first move?" Sirius laughed.

"I'm not waiting for—"

"Never mind. I remember what relationships are like at your age." He crossed his arms, mimicking Harry's stance. His expression sobered. "You may have to consider that after whatever you said to each other, she's not going to be willing to come to you first."

"So what if she isn't? I have every right to be upset," Harry said.

"I don't disagree. Of course, as far as Hermione knows, you'll never forgive her for her part in it, so there's no reason for her to write to you first."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why should I have to forgive her?"

"Another good point," Sirius remarked. "You don't have to do anything. It's up to you. But after all the fighting both of you did to be together, you have to decide if it makes sense to throw it all away. If it was worth fighting for before, shouldn't it be worth even more now?"

"It's not that simple."

"Few things in life are simple," Sirius responded. "You've taken on a lot of very adult things in the past few years, especially recently. All I'm saying is that you should handle your relationship with her like an adult. Talk things out. You've had time to calm down and really think over what's happened, how you feel about it and how you feel about Hermione. If this is really the end, at least talk to her about it first. If I'd ever had what you claim to have with her, I wouldn't just let it go without trying to understand why first."

He cleared his throat. "As for everything else, you have some serious thinking to do if you haven't already. What you did to Snape—"

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said quickly. He turned away. Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder and turned Harry until they faced each other again.

"That's too bad," Sirius responded. "What you did to him changed you. It changed your mother. It changed Hermione. You have to own your actions. As much as you might want to blame Hermione for who you are now, you contributed to it as much, if not more than everyone else. Be angry," Sirius said. "You know you have that right. Just be sure you're angry at the right person."

When Harry looked up at him, Sirius saw the confusion and pain mingled in his godson's eyes. He wanted to believe Harry was sorry for what had happened, but had seen little indication that the boy felt anything other than hatred for Snape. If this didn't get through to him, Sirius didn't know what would. It was too late for remorse to allow Harry to put the pieces of his soul back together, but it wasn't too late for him to recognize what he'd done, forgive himself and heal. If that brief look of guilt was any indication, it was possible.  


* * *

  
"Mum, you know you don't have to keep watching me," Harry said. "I'm not going to just disappear." He closed the trunk in front of his bed and turned. He offered his mother a small smile and beckoned her inside.

"I know that," Lily said. She entered her son's bedroom and closed the door behind herself. "It's just been so long since your sister and I have had you here and...you've never really been here with us, have you?" Her thoughts lay unspoken behind the fading voice. The last time her son had shared her home, they'd been fighting over his stepfather; he'd been begging her to see the truth about Snape.

Harry didn't have to look up to know Lily was frowning again and pinching the bridge of her nose. She had been trying so hard to act like everything was normal, she'd been giving herself headaches every time there was a reminder their life was, in fact, as far from normal as it had ever been. It would probably remain that way for a long time. Harry hated that she was stressing herself trying to be the mother she thought he wanted, but he hated even more that she still had to try. He wouldn't dare tell her though. He didn't need tension in their relationship as well.

"So, you're going back to Hogwarts tomorrow. Have you given any thought to what you're going to do?" Lily asked.

"I'm going to take my finals privately, like my professors arranged and then go back to school at the beginning of term," Harry said. "I thought you agreed with that plan. My professors don't have a problem with it."

"That's not what I meant," Lily said. "You haven't spoken to Hermione in over a month and she's going to be there." Harry sighed and Lily stepped closer. "Are you going to talk to her? You may not bring it up, but I can tell you miss her." When Harry frowned, she added, "Haven't your friends told you how upset she is?"

"Ron said everyone is upset. We all miss Neville," he stated.

"And you miss her," Lily repeated.

Harry looked down, avoiding his mother's eyes. It wasn't missing Hermione that was the issue, he didn't know what to say to her. He certainly wasn't prepared to behave like his mother, pretending like nothing had happened and moving on with their lives. But he didn't know what choices he had with her, if any. He couldn't even think how to ask. "I don't know what you expect me to do, exactly. Hermione made her choice. She gave me back the necklace. She left."

"Did you make her feel like she had a choice?" Lily asked.

Harry looked up. "Why should I have done that? Hermione did exactly what she wanted to do and she never bothered talking to me about it before, because she knew how I'd feel." His voice rose. "She knew I would've put a stop to it and she didn't care. Isn't that what you were saying about her before?" Harry asked. "That she was clinging to me for her own selfish reasons? All she did was prove that."

"I really have been bad, haven't I?" Lily frowned and sat on her son's bed. She motioned for Harry to join her. "I don't want you to get the impression that I approve of how far your relationship with her went, but I…understand why you both felt it was right at the time. Hermione may be a number of things, but she was not selfish where you were concerned. Or maybe she was. In the same way that we all were. We didn't want to lose you." She placed a hand over his on the coverlet.

"At the end of the day, it was my decision to bring you back, no matter what steps had been taken beforehand to make it a possibility. I could not let you go and no manner of persuasion from Hermione or anyone else would've convinced me to make that decision if I didn't wish to do so myself."

"But this was all her idea," Harry said.

"And you can't understand how desperate she was once she was sure you'd have to fight Voldemort?" Lily asked. "You asked a lot of us to accept you as you are after everything that happened. I don't think it's too much to ask to forgive any mistake Hermione might have made in trying to keep you around. She certainly didn't do it because she doesn't care. She went into that battle willing to die helping you and Neville fight. She even went up against me more than once," Lily said with a small smile. "In spite of what you may think, I don't believe there is anything wrong with the body you have now or the intent behind wanting to save you."

"Why aren't you upset that they did this behind my back? And yours?"

"I'm more upset that it was even possible," Lily said softly.

Harry looked away from his mother. He didn't want to think about Snape now, or ever again if he could help it. Harry knew the concept of murder in relation to what happened was a technicality, at best. Snape had deserved everything that had happened to him and _he_ was paying the price. With this body. And the look in everyone's eyes every time they brought it up.

Would they always look at him like he was the villain? Would he always feel this small, lingering doubt that he might be in someone's eyes? That possibility might always feel like a sharp pain in the middle of his chest, stinging Harry at odd moments when he least expected it. It wasn't enough to know what he'd done to himself, but to hear his sister talk about how much she missed her father and loved her big brother in nearly the same breath—something had to ease the sharp ache he felt when he lied to Raven about being sorry Snape was gone. Something short of feeling sorry Snape was dead.

"I know why you did it, and as a result you're still here with me today," Lily said. "In this instance, the end result is more important than the action that enabled it. I still believe what you did to him was wrong, but I love you too much to lie and say I'm not glad I still have you—regardless of the cost."

"If he had merely gone to Azkaban, would you have been able to forgive him?" Harry asked.

Lily said nothing for several moments. Squeezing Harry's hand, she finally said, "I might have given him the same treatment you did. And possibly regretted the consequences after." She squeezed his hand again. "That might just be the pain talking. I know, in the back of mind, all human life is precious regardless of what we choose to do with it. But that doesn't change my personal feelings about Severus. I shouldn't say this to you, but after seeing what James went through, I don't think there is anything he deserved more. Still, personal feelings don't give any of us the right to exact our own punishments."

Lily gave her son a brief smile. "But that doesn't answer what you're going to do about Hermione. She's hurt. After all it took for you to bring us together, I would hate to think you're going to just end it over something we were all involved with. You're not going to stop speaking to me, are you?"

"Of course not," Harry responded. "You're a permanent part of my life and she's—"

"She's just the girl who would risk anything for you and proved it. More than once," Lily said. Standing from the bed, Lily gave her son a small smile. "She's staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. I don't mind if you decide to stay a couple of extra days after you finish your exams." She held up a hand as Harry began to interrupt. "You may want to think about why you came to care for her so deeply before you throw it away for good." Without waiting for a response from her son, Lily turned and left the room.  


* * *

  
Walking into the common room was a surreal experience. For one, it was the middle of the day and the room was empty. He'd spent Christmases as Hogwarts before and knew most students went home to be with their families, but Harry had never thought he'd see the day when nearly every student decided to be at home for vacation. Ron had told him most students were so shaken up by what had happened to Neville, they couldn't wait to pack their bags and be with the people they loved, himself included.

The second thing that struck Harry as out-of-place was the picture of Neville hung in the corner of the room. It was different from the official school portraits—it didn't talk, didn't seem to be aware of the inhabitants of the room. It was just a blown up photograph of a former student, one who'd died to save all of them, and so became a part of wizarding history. Still, looking at it made Harry feel as if the full truth of what had happened was finally real. He'd missed the battle, missed the funerals and never got a chance to see Neville fight and fulfill his destiny. If this were another time and place, it would be _his_ likeness hung in the common room, waiting for an official portrait to be commissioned and hung in the Entrance Hall. He had no right, but he was grateful it wasn't. Regardless of what it was costing him.

The last part of his return to school that jolted Harry was seeing Hermione for the first time. She'd been sitting in front of the fireplace when he came in, huddled over a book. She had turned when he pushed his way past the portrait, looked him over briefly, and then returned to her book, her expression unchanged. It was if they were strangers. He hadn't known what to expect, but Hermione was hardly the type to merely ignore someone. The angry silent treatment was more in line with what he'd come to expect when she was upset.

Of course, Harry couldn't think of a time when anyone had hurt Hermione the way he had—blaming her for trying to fix his mistakes and then cutting her off without a word when she'd run away. They'd both handled things badly, Harry especially. He didn't know if being aware of that much was enough to change the facts. But seeing her now, he knew he had to try. He couldn't live with the look she'd given him any more than he could forget what they'd had together. And could have again if they tried.

Harry walked across the room and stood in front of Hermione's chair. He waited for several seconds, hoping she'd acknowledge him. "Hi." Hermione looked up. Her grip on the book across her lap tightened. "Mum told me I might see you here." She nodded. "I've missed you," Harry admitted.

"Your mum told me. I wasn't sure if I should believe her."

Harry stared at Hermione in silence for a moment. "You've talked to my mother?"

"I talk to her all the time," she responded.

"She never said anything."

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe she didn't think you'd care. Especially after the way things ended."

"Was that the end of things?"

She laughed shortly. She closed the book she was reading and stood. "We haven't spoken in over a month. Did you think I was just biding my time until I could beg you to be with me again?" At his frown, she matched his expression and began to walk around the chair. She headed towards the stairs. "Don't bother to answer, Harry. I'm sure it crossed your mind at least once. It wouldn't be the first time you thought of me as pathetic where you're concerned, but it will certainly be the last."

"What?" Harry lunged forward and grabbed for her wrist to keep her from moving. "Why would you say that? I've never thought of you that way and you know it."

"Do I? You practically accused me of it the day you woke up and the way you looked at me—" Hermione broke off and shook Harry's hand from her wrist. "You didn't care what we'd risked to keep you alive, you didn't want to do anything but yell at me for wanting you in my life that badly. You might not have said it in words, but you made it pretty clear what you think of me."

"I know what I said, Hermione, and—"

"Don't, Harry," She said, her palm raised towards him. "I don't think you need to add anything else." She cradled her book over her chest and looked at the floor. "There is one thing. You were right. I couldn't admit it then, but I've had time—more than enough—to think about it. I had no right to do what I did and I should've come to you as soon as I guessed what had happened. I should've given you a choice." Hermione looked up briefly before her gaze shot back down. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not, not entirely. I'm glad you saved me." Harry said.

Hermione nodded. "I am too. If that's all you came to say, I really should be going." She began walking away again. Harry hesitated, then decided not to stop her. With one last glance at him, Hermione ran up the stairs and to her dorm. After a few seconds, Harry moved back in front of the fireplace. He'd known it was going to be difficult getting through to Hermione, but he hadn't thought she'd run away from him again. She couldn't stand to look at him. Was it because of what he'd done to Snape or the things he'd said to her? Whatever was still bothering Hermione, Harry hoped it wasn't enough that they couldn't fix what was broken between them. After everything else, he didn't want his mistakes to cause him to lose her too.  


* * *

  
It was two days before Christmas before he saw her again. She'd been avoiding him, taking meals in her dorm and staying out of the common room during the day. Anxious, Harry had waited for her, planting himself on a chair in the corner until Hermione passed through the room. When she did, he crossed the room swiftly, grasping her arm just above the elbow before she could make her escape.

"What—?" Hermione turned. "What do you want with me?"

Harry frowned. "I just want to talk. Can we do that?"

"We've done that, Harry. I don't think there's anything else to talk about."

Her words sounded sure enough, but Harry felt the way she avoided his eyes when she pulled out of his grasp spoke volumes more. "There's still more I have to say to you," he said. "Please."

Sighing, Hermione nodded. She walked over to a window and leaned against it, staring out at the cliffs in the distance.

"I'm not angry at you anymore. To be honest, I'm not sure I ever had a right to be."

Hermione turned quickly. "Harry, you had every right. I never should have—"

"But you did," Harry said. "You did it for me and if I hadn't…done what I'd done, you would never have been put in that position. Can we just agree that we were both wrong?" Hermione pressed her lips together and nodded.

"I still don't understand how you were able to do it," Harry said. "The only instructions you had involved using body parts and blood."

"We used your body," Hermione said. "The one with the scar. Really, we only needed a small piece of flesh and, of course, your blood did carry your mother's protection. Even without your scar, you still have some small reflection of that." She motioned towards him. "We buried the rest of the remains next to your father, in Godric's Hollow. Your mother didn't tell you any of this?"

"I haven't wanted to talk about it."

"I see." Hermione moved her eyes away from him again.

"Have you seen Draco?"

Hermione hesitated before nodding. "I visited. Once."

"So, it's true then."

"Yes. The doctors don't think he'll ever recover his sanity." Hermione lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I'm not sure it's a fair end for him, considering that he didn't really have a choice about helping his aunt. Losing one's mind—or worse, being aware of what's going on some level—it's worse than death."

"He wasn't exactly innocent either."

"I think the only one of us who could say that is Neville," Hermione whispered.

Harry frowned. "I know why you think that about me, but the rest of you—"

"All ended up severely hurting or killing at least one person in that battle," she finished. Hermione shrugged. "It was all self-defense, but it still feels… I think it's fair to say, none of us is the same after that day." She crossed her arms over her chest. "One blessing you have is no memories of that awful fight."

"I have a lot of other memories," Harry began. "Of us. The past few months have been—"

"Insane," Hermione supplied. She rolled her eyes.

"I was going to say great," Harry corrected her. "In spite of all the craziness and drama, I found something with you that I never thought I would find before." When Hermione didn't respond, Harry looked down at his hands. "I've done a lot of thinking about us recently and I know the way I treated you was unfair. I'm sorry. I know I said it before, but I never should've blamed you after what I did. I feel horrible about the way I acted. Can you—?"

"I forgive you," Hermione said quickly. Harry looked up. She had turned away again and wrapped her arms around herself. Harry moved to stand behind her and put his arms around her waist. Hermione shifted, attempting to shake him off before relenting and relaxing in his embrace. She turned her head and their eyes met. "Something else to say?"

"I'm sorry."

"You already said that."

"About Snape. Really." Harry squeezed Hermione, pushed her hair to one side and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I hated him. But I never should've acted on it. I took…I took a life and it wasn't right. I'm paying the price for that every day," he whispered. Hermione sighed and Harry squeezed her again. "I love you. For standing by me, even after you knew what I did. For being willing to accept me after everything that happened at the beginning of term. For being my best friend and supporting me, no matter what. For keeping me on my toes, whether I liked it or not."

He caught Hermione's smile out of the corner of his eye and kissed the back of her neck. "I know I can be a whiney pain in the bum sometimes—"

"Sometimes?" She giggled.

"And you can be a stubborn nag, but we have something good," Harry said. "I don't want to lose that. With all of the craziness out of our lives, we can finally enjoy being together, with nothing standing in our way. If you still want me."

Hermione turned and slipped her arms around his neck. "Of course I do," she whispered. "I love you more now than I ever have. I will never stop."

Grinning, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace he'd been carrying from the moment he realized what he could lose. Without a word, he placed it around her neck, smiling as the crystal glowed briefly after it came to rest against her skin. Hermione returned his smile before pulling Harry into a kiss, knowing that for them, words would never be enough.


End file.
